The Truth About War
by ravenwritingclaw
Summary: What happened to Belle and her beast after "happily ever after"? Find out through the eyes of her youngest son and eldest daughter! *Read and Review*
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** I wrote this story several years ago and was originally going to make it into a novel which I would later publish, but things have changed. The plot this story would have had is completely different. But I don't want to just delete the story, so I thought I would share it on here with those who also love "Beauty and the Beast." I apologize in advance for any grammar/spelling errors. I'm posting it as is as I'm currently editing my third novel and don't have time to edit it. Enjoy!

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"Shush, do you want them to hear us?" A voice whispered, invading Belle's slumber. She had been dozing peacefully for quite some time now, longer than she usually did, and was reluctant to let it end so quickly. With an inaudible sigh she rolled over, her head colliding with that of her husband's chest. He too was sleeping, although this was common for him. Emmanuel had never been a morning person when he was in his beastly form and Belle was half-heartedly glad that was one of the things that hadn't changed since the spell was broken.

 _Five more minutes please, just five more happy minutes_ , Belle prayed, nuzzling her curly head against her husband's silken shirt.

"Okay, on the count of three. One . . . two . . . three!" Suddenly there was screaming and three curly heads pounced on the sleeping royals. A little girl no older than seven landed with a thump on Emmanuel's stomach, knocking the air right out of him. He sat up abruptly, trying to catch his breath and accidentally caused his wife to do the same. For a moment she was terribly confused then realized what was going on.

"Henri, Damien, Ophelia what are you doing up so early?" she asked sleepily. Without warning a pillow grazed the back of her head. Her honeysuckle irises caught sight of the eldest twin, Henri, with said pillow in hand. He had his father's persuasive smile and was using it to his full advantage at the moment. The ten year old prince was a handful, but a joyful child. She smirked, shaking her head and tried to grab the pillow.

The next thing she knew Damien, the younger of the boys had one too and got her in the chest. She gasped and looked at Emmanuel, wondering what they were going to do now.

"We wanted a pillow fight. Come on Mama, grab a pillow!" Henri exclaimed, bouncing in place on his rump. Ophelia mimicked her elder brothers and grabbed her father's pillow, lightly thwacking him in the face.

"Play Papa, play!" she insisted with a giggle, her cinnamon eyes dancing playfully. The dazed parents exchanged an amused glance then attacked with vigor. The pillows were used as weapons at first but once their parents got a hold of their waists they began tickling the children incessantly while the comfortable accessories were tossed to the ground followed by an overflow of laughter.

Emmanuel had Ophelia beside herself with giggles while Belle had managed to capture her sons, holding them down with one hand each as she tickled them. Eventually their fun was cut short when two men, one portly while the other quite thin like a candelabrum walked in the room still in their pyjamas. The larger of the two gasped and waddled over to the bed.

"Your majesties I am so sorry about this! If I had known they were up I would have gladly-"

The king chuckled, shaking his head at his advisor. "Cogsworth, it's fine. They're our children for heaven's sake," he chuckled again, kissing Ophelia's forehead. Belle smiled kindly at the man, knowing how hard it was for him to remember that the royal children were not servants that he could order around. The older man blushed lightly, bowing his head in the process.

"Again your majesties I sincerely apologize for the interruption of your sleep. I-" This time the other gentleman stopped his partner's speech.

"Cogsworth, lighten up! They are only children. What damage could they do?" The advisor glared at his friend, not appreciating being interrupted twice in less than five minutes.

"Mind your own business Lumiere, I wasn't talking to you!" His face was already beginning to turn a light shade of rouge. The thinner gentleman smirked at his companion then ruffled the princess' hair lightly.

"The princess is my business. I would not be a good godfather if I let things like that slide." He tilted his head at the girl. "Come Ophelia, it is time for your breakfast." The princess pouted, wanting to stay with her father for just a little longer.

Lumiere chuckled at her stubbornness. "You will see him a half hour, I swear. Come on now, you cannot eat pancakes in your nightgown."

The little girl gasped. "Pancakes!" she squealed. Once her feet hit the floor she kissed her papa then dashed out of the room. Her godfather smirked and bowed to the king and queen before following the bubble of energy.

Cogsworth cleared his throat, glancing at the boys still curled up to their mother. Belle smiled and kissed their cheeks. "Go with Cogsworth boys, I'll see you soon." They heaved a sigh, dreading the lecture they would receive for their behaviour. Cogsworth was a kind man, despite his abrasive nature. He was merely concerned about formalities. Belle knew he was the perfect man to watch out for her sons, next to her husband.

When the couple was alone once more, Belle curled up in the position she was before being "attacked" by their children. Her eyes drooped shut almost instantly. The bed, while big enough for five, was much more comfortable with only two. Emmanuel secured an arm around her waist, tucking her against his substantially larger frame as his face buried against her loose curls. For a moment there was a calm silence.

"We should have another child."

Belle's eyes popped open. The queen titled her head up slightly and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Now she wasn't one to jump to conclusions or to judge based on first impressions, proven obviously when she fell in love with him while he was still a beast, but she wondered what in the world had prompted him to say such a thing.

"You want another?" Belle asked, making sure she was getting this right. Her husband's diamond eyes confirmed her suspicions. When she looked into them she saw a determination, a love that only could be given to his children. Emmanuel adored his present offspring of course. He didn't want to replace them but she could sense the nagging feeling he had. What had brought this on?

"I do. The boys are already ten. Before we know it one of them will be taking my place as king. And Ophelia," Emmanuel sighed, remembering his little girl, "well she's not so little anymore. I can't carry her like I did when she was no bigger than a loaf of bread. I love them Belle, I love them more than my life. Another one would only be more for me to love." He hesitantly looked down at her. "Do I sound crazy?"

The queen thought about this for a moment. She was still young, still able to carry children. She didn't know why the thought hadn't occurred to her before. She too adored children, more than she originally thought she would when she first began having them. She loved how they smelt, how soft their skin was, how unconditionally they loved you. Before Belle knew it she was nodding.

"Alright, we'll have another," she whispered, kissing Emmanuel's cheek. The king beamed and angled his head downwards, kissing his wife. Belle chuckled at the back of her throat and laced her fingers through his tawny curls. She was glad she could make him this happy with one simple phrase. He was such a child sometimes, easily pleased by simple promises.

Emmanuel's lips didn't linger long on his wife's cherub lips. Soon his head dipped down and was teasing the skin on her neck. The queen gasped, startled by this change but soon sighed, goose bumps spreading quickly across her whole body. Even after over ten years of marriage he could still make her feel weightless.

Belle would have loved to stay in bed like this longer, but she knew the children were waiting and if they held this off, they could walk in on something far more inappropriate than an early morning cuddle. The queen reluctantly moved her head and sat up, receiving a pout from her husband. She shook her head, unable to contain her grin.

"Don't give me that look. You know Ophelia is waiting for you. I won't be the reason she's depressed." The young woman swung her legs over the side of the grand bed and headed to the closet, trying to decide what to wear for breakfast. _Perhaps just my nightgown with a robe will do. I don't have any substantial plans today._ Going back to bed after breakfast was an appealing thought.

The queen felt a pair of familiarly warm arms wrap around her waist from behind and she sighed, leaning back reluctantly against them. Adam's head fell to her shoulder and she felt his lips brush the creamy skin. "Perhaps we can continue this later?" Belle smirked, breaking free of Adam's grip and headed to the door, tossing a robe over her curvy frame in the process.

"If you're good," she teased with a wink before heading out the door. She caught her husband's reply just barely.

"Don't you know I'm always good?" Belle's laugh echoed down the deserted corridor.

 _We'll just have to see now, won't we?_


	2. Chapter 1

The call of the common kestrel echoed in the countryside. Its black tips grazed the clouds as it bended and swirled through the breeze that kept it gliding. A whistle caught its attention, changing its direction. With ease it swooped down and landed on the hand of its owner. Prince Henri, a spry lad of twenty, cooed at his bird, stroking its glossy feathers with his ungloved hand while the other gloved appendage kept the agile bird steady. His twin brother Damien shook his head.

"You pay her almost as much attention as you do the girls in court. I think you even coo the same way when talking to them," the tawny boy teased.

Henri rolled his eyes, his hazel hair twitching every which way as it came out of its ponytail. "Very funny Brother. The same could be said for you and those kittens."

Melissa, Damien's Birman cat, purred as she settled on her master's lap. Damien ran his callused fingertips over the cat's creamy fur as his gaze drifted to his little sister. Camilla, with short hazel locks, was playing with the kitten Fraser, a British Shorthair with soft gray fur and curious green eyes. The youngest child at eleven, she had yet to receive her own pet. Until then, Fraser would have to do.

"That's doubtful. Besides, you like how they flock to you. Josephine certainly has her eyes on you," said Damien. The younger of the two princes lay back on the ground as he heard the kestrel take flight once more. Henri soon joined his brother on the grass. The French countryside was particularly radiant that summer day and although both boys would rather they didn't have to keep an eye on Camilla, at least they could spend some time outdoors before dinner. The children, including their missing sister Ophelia, were already dressed in their finery which meant paying extra close attention to the youngest princess so she wouldn't jump in a mud puddle or get her rosy gown caught in the brambles nearby.

Henri chuckled. "Cogsworth's daughter isn't any more interesting than the other girls in court. She just happens to be close with the family."

The brothers stared up at the clouds, the grass tickling their ungloved hands, and Damien's mind began to wander to the dinner later that evening. Usually meals were never something to make a fuss over, but his grandparents and Chip would be attending. Since Mrs. Potts and her son had moved to the village with Belle's father a handful of years before, it was always a treat when all three came for a visit. Maurice's inventions had really taken flight since the time Belle married her beloved Emmanuel and now Maurice, with Chip's help, ran a successful invention shop. Mrs. Potts kept the house running smoothly as she had the castle, but in her older years she made fewer trips to the palace to assist the staff. On occasion all four grandchildren would head to the village and pay a visit to make it easier on her weary bones.

"True, but she is nice. At least she isn't as boisterous as her mother," the younger twin chuckled.

"She's just as stubborn though," Henri pointed out. "Where do you suppose our mischievous little sister disappeared to now?" His bright blue eyes were half closed as he continued to stare up at the sky, watching his bird hunt.

Damien shrugged. At seventeen, Ophelia was a handful. It was near impossible to know where the curly brunette was. He supposed that was a trait she inherited from their mother. From what he could recall from Maurice's stories, Belle always vanished in her young days. Sometimes she danced with the gypsies who passed through the village. Other times, Maurice claimed she went into the woods and played with the animals.

"Who knows? Maybe she stuck by the castle for once," Damien chuckled. The boys exchanged a grin, their matching eyes sparkling then shook their heads. It was doubtful Ophelia could resist the temptation to sneak off castle grounds, even if her grandparents were coming by.

"Damien!" Camilla called. The swishing of her dress as she approached the boys caused him to tilt his tanned head in her direction. Her hazel eyes were turned upward and Fraser squirmed in her arms, trying to get free to explore.

The prince pushed himself up, moving Melissa to the side as he checked for grass stains on his navy blue tunic, and smiled at the baby of the family. Like their father, he had a tendency to dote on his little sisters, especially Camilla. Although their mother initially protested, Damien occasionally acted as her tutor when she began her lessons years before, strengthening their bond.

"Yeah Lila?" he asked. The little girl pointed to where Ann was flying.

"What's in Ann's hands?"

Damien smirked and fully sat up. He brought his sister onto his lap and sat her down. "Well, for one, those are talons, not hands. Birds don't have hands. And second," he pointed to the form of the deceased animal, "that is a swallow. Kestrels hunt other birds, among other things."

Damien recalled his father's lessons. The boys would spend hours with their father in the library, talking about nature, creation, destruction, and other topics the king came across in his private studies. Damien knew enough about his father's past to know Emmanuel's education as a child was limited. As a group, they taught each other and explored the world through Belle's collection of books. He suspected Emmanuel would approve of his frank explanation.

Camilla's eyes widened as she gazed at the bird and gave a nod. "Oh. Do cats have hands?" She asked, inspecting Fraser's paws much to the kitten's displeasure. He hissed as his paw was poked and prodded by the little girl. Damien intervened and picked up his rambunctious kitten, setting him on the grass beside them so he could play as Damien explained.

"No," he shook his head, "cats have paws. They have four of them, two in the front and two in the back," the prince explained.

"What about doggies? Does Raoul have hands?" she inquired, turning her body to the side so she could gaze up at her brother properly.

Raoul was Ophelia's Bernese mountain dog. The elder princess had come upon the shaggy creature during an expedition near the river. At eleven she had been searching for buried treasure when she stumbled upon the dog whose paw was caught in a trap. Ophelia managed to rescue the creature and after fixing its injured paw, the dog hadn't left the princess' side.

Damien chuckled with a shake of his head. "I'm afraid not Lila. Dogs have paws as well."

The girl gave her brother a pout. "Well what does have hands?" she exclaimed.

Henri exchanged a glance with his brother. Damien nodded then grinned at his little sister.

"I do!" He began tickling his sister's sides, causing her to squeal like a sea gull.

"I do too!" Henri joined in and began tickling Camilla's stomach. The little princess laughed hard, her legs kicking and arms flailing as she tried to get away from her big brothers. After some minutes the boys let up and the princess flopped onto the grass beside them, out of breath but smiling.

Suddenly, a figure came waddling towards them. Damien squinted and gave a sigh. "Looks like the fun is over." He nudged his brother. "Here comes your future father-in-law," Damien whispered.

Henri rolled his eyes and ruffled the younger's hair. "You're such a pest," he muttered.

Cogsworth finally made it to them. He took a deep breath and wiped his brow with a lace handkerchief. "Boys," he gasped, "there you are. I've been looking _everywhere_ for you. You're almost as hard to find as Ophelia." He stuffed the hankie back in his red jacket then stared at the boys. "Come along now, we can't let dinner cool."

Camilla pouted. "Awe, Cogs! Can't we stay out here a little longer?"

"Yeah Cogs, why not?" Henri mimicked.

Cogsworth narrowed his eyes. "Children, I am not in the mood for your foolishness. Now please, follow me back to the castle."

Damien sighed and picked up Melissa, carrying her in one arm while his free hand took Camilla's. She held onto her brother's large hand while the other tried to grip Fraser. Henri gave a sharp whistle and within seconds Ann was perched on the prince's hand, the remnants of her lunch still evident on her claws. Cogsworth shuddered.

"I sincerely question your parents' judgement in letting you keep that creature." The advisor to the princes sighed. "No matter. Back to the castle we go!" With that, the four headed home with Cogsworth in the lead.

Belle and Emmanuel met their children at the entrance to the grand castle. The queen was dressed head to toe in pale violet with her light blue outer skirts were speckled in bluebells and lilacs. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and Damien spotted a white tulip behind her ear. The prince assumed the flora was a gift from their father.

The queen bent down as Camilla dashed over to her mother, hugging the older woman tightly. Fraser managed to get free of the princess' grip and soon was off to chase mice. Damien put Melissa down to follow then headed over to his parents.

Emmanuel placed a kiss on his daughter's cheek and soon she nestled against her father's chest, her head perched on his shoulder lightly. Henri embraced his mother, trying to avoid her hands that were insistent on smoothing back his hair.

"Really Henri, what were you three doing out there, rolling in the fields?" she teased.

The elder prince shrugged with a smirk that rivaled his father's. "No, just watching the clouds. And if you're going to pick on the state of my head, look at Damien's."

"That was your fault, you messed it up!" Damien pointed out.

Belle chuckled and went over to her boy, kissing both his cheeks before doing just as her other son instructed. She picked out a fair amount of grass before the prince swatted her hand away lightly.

"Mama, I'm old enough to clean myself up," he complained with a slight pout.

"Says the boy who pouts like a child," Henri muttered under his breath.

Damien punched his brother in the arm, which, inevitably, started a shoving war.

"Alright boys, that's enough! You can wrestle it out later. Right now, you have to be on your best behaviour. Or so your mother has told me," Emmanuel intervened. The princes huffed in unison but did as they were told.

Belle nodded but her attention soon fell on the missing sister. "Where is Ophelia?" Both boys shrugged helplessly.

The queen shook her head, muttering something about free-spirited.

"Where do you think she gets it from?" the king teased, adjusting his grip on the youngest princess while her arms wrapped around his neck. "Lumiere should be back here with her soon. He knows about dinner tonight."

Belle rolled her eyes and poked her husband's shoulder. "Hush you. You're also supposed to be on your best behaviour," she reminded.

Emmanuel mumbled a "yes dear" just as the coach carrying Maurice and the others approached the gates. Belle visibly brightened when she saw her father and hurried over. The elder inventor hopped off the coach, his aged bones creaking as he righted himself before tending to his friend. Mrs. Potts graciously took his offered arm, her yellow bonnet bobbing as she stepped onto solid ground. Last to exit was Chip, now age twenty-one with a full head of sandy blonde curls and a stature of well over six foot.

Belle bent down and hugged her papa tightly. "Bonjour Papa, how are you feeling?"

"Oh Belle, I'm fine! Would you stop fretting? And how are you? You look tired," Maurice stated.

Damien smirked. 'The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree apparently.'

While the queen explained about Camilla's nightmares having kept the mother up later than expected, Mrs. Potts went over to greet Damien. She hugged him tightly, nearly squeezing all the air out of him. The young man smiled down at whom he had grown up thinking of as a grandma and inquired how she was fairing.

The white haired lady chuckled. "As fine as one can be at my age. Now, where is that sister of yours?"

Damien chuckled. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I think I saw her with Sofia, Colene, and Nan in the village. They were dancing with some of the gypsy children," Chip piped up.

Mrs. Potts sent her son an exasperated glance. "If you saw her, why didn't you go _get_ her?" Damien wondered if he and Belle would be the same as Mrs. Potts was with Chip as time went on.

Chip shrugged. "She looked like she was having fun. She'll be back." With that, the young man went over and shook Henri's hand. The two had been close since their youth. At the time, Henri was willing to be taken under Chip's wing to learn and have adventures. Damien watched them exchange words and wondered what they were discussing.

"Chip!" Camilla exclaimed as she reached out for him. To the young girl, Chip was just another big brother, but one who, apparently, gave the best shoulder rides because of how tall he was. The man chuckled and picked up the girl, tossing her in the air lightly.

"Hello Bug, have you been good?" Chip asked as he settled the girl on his shoulders.

Camilla nodded. "Oui! So good that Mama says I can get a pet soon," she declared. The family shared a chuckle then decided whether or not to head inside.

"Ophelia will come sooner or later. Her stomach will direct her home if Lumiere does not," Henri pointed out as he stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Yes, but I really wish she could try to be on time. She's going to have to learn one of these days," Belle replied.

Emmanuel chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Let the girl have a little fun Belle. You're only young once!"

With a sigh of defeat, the queen gave in and the family headed inside.

"Now watch your head Bug. You've grown but the doorways have not," Chip warned as they made their way indoors.


	3. Chapter 2

From the time when Ophelia was very young, she knew she wasn't like other children in the village, or her family. Like her mother before her, taking the path most strolled wasn't for her. Still she wasn't level headed like her mama. She often spoke out of turn, mostly without thinking. She wasn't temperamental like Papa, but she did manage to poke people's nerves to get them to the point of anger. Nor was Ophelia bold like Henri or intelligent like Damien. She wasn't as curious as Camilla either, although she did manage to get into trouble by exploring places she shouldn't. She didn't have a knack for creating things like Maurice either.

Yet the villagers liked her all the same. Upon her first visit when she was just two years old, she met the daughters of the "Bimbettes". Ophelia didn't know the reason behind their nickname, but their daughters were the first children she met. Claudia's daughter Sophia insisted on playing dress-up with her while Laura's child Colene wanted to paint and Paula's daughter Nan wanted to race her. It was chaotic, but as the girls grew up together, their bond strengthened and they made compromises. When they wandered the streets together, the shop owners showered all four with compliments. At a young age, she understood they likely said these things because they had to, but it was nice all the same.

Belle would sometimes take Ophelia, but she didn't remember many good things coming from those visits. The princess would play with her friends in the town square and Belle would watch from the side reading. Sometimes the villagers would come up to her, but conversation was limited. They still saw her as the daughter of the crazy inventor and she still saw them as the people who never understood or accepted her for who she was. Ophelia may be the daughter of royalty, but her family's history was littered with memories best not recalled.

Ophelia tried to corner herself to the castle, but there was only so much fun she could have behind those walls. Josephine was too old to play with, and she had work to do. Lumiere's son lived in the village and any of the servants' children usually had work to finish too. Once, when her cousin Helena came to visit, they almost had fun together, but that ended quickly. Being older than Josephine and Chip, Helena had even less in common with the girl. Whenever she visited, Ophelia felt a sense of hostility cloak the castle until she left. Thankfully, the princess rarely visited her extended family.

So the village was the only thing left for Ophelia. In that provincial town she learned how to juggle, what the best jokes were, who knew the town gossip and which of it was actually true. She was taught how to brew the finest beers as well as harvest the tastiest wines. Sophia grimaced at that particular lesson, but she appreciated the talents during one of the girl's birthday parties. Colene showed her how to fasten a writing quill and while she failed more than succeeded, Belle appreciated the gift come her birthday. Ophelia remembered spending days with Nan as they treated injured animals in the wood, despite Emmanuel's chastising that the woods was too dangerous for her.

Maurice attempted to teach Ophelia his craft of inventing, but much like Belle, she didn't have the talent. Her grandfather accepted the unfortunate development and kept up his work with Chip instead. She did make a habit to visit every week just to make sure he hadn't injured himself while Mrs. Potts made her customary trip to the village.

"That man would have lost an arm if it hadn't been for Belle," Mrs. Potts said on more than one occasion. As Ophelia grew older, she shuddered at how true this was. She often wondered why he hadn't moved to the castle once his daughter was wed, but she hadn't gotten around to asking yet. When he was in an inventing mood, he usually nattered to himself, forcing Ophelia to read a book while she handed him the appropriate tool.

Thankfully, today was not watch-over-Maurice-day. The princess inhaled the sharp odor of the village square and tossed her juggling balls into the air. She leaned down and stood on her hands for half a second before rising just in time to catch the colourful toys. The gypsy children nearby cheered and she tossed them the three toys. From the rim of the village fountain she spun on her toes to look for her friends.

"Come on Nan, dance with me!" Ophelia exclaimed, reaching out her hand for her dear friend.

The blonde who was dressed head to toe in violet shook her head with a giggle. "You know Papa would kill me if he saw me here," Nan replied.

The princess scoffed. "That old fool needs to know when to mind his own business. He's a town drunk." She took the hands of a nearby gypsy boy and lifted the child up. He laughed as she spun him around then placed him on her shoulders.

"Don't let him hear you say that!" the girl screeched. The band kept playing in the background as the gypsies twirled in the center square.

Sophia spun around as her blonde wisps broke out of its low ponytail. "Come now Nan, don't worry! He'll be in the tavern all day. Just let loose for a little while." Sophia's light blue dress swished across the sandy ground as her feet carried her to the fountain.

Ophelia laughed as she took her friend's hand. Her bare feet kicked up in the air while the bracelets on her arms and ankles jangled. The pieces of jewelry had been gifts from friends in the various gypsy bands that travelled through the village throughout the year. When she broke free from the castle, she donned her multi-coloured skirt, bangles, and head scarf, immersing herself in a culture her mother had never known.

"I think I'll sit this one out with Nan," said Colene as she straightened the skirts of her pink dress. "Someone has to watch out for trouble," she explained. The girls stood off to the side watching, but unlike Nan, who was busy watching out for her father, Colene's foot tapped to the music.

All three girls, like their mothers, were nearly identical in all physical aspects, yet their personalities were astonishingly different. Over the years Ophelia had learned easy ways to separate them. Sophia liked to direct activities, but she was often overruled by Ophelia. Colene was the quietest out of the three, but she expressed herself perfectly when she wrote. Nan, while shy, was compassionate to animals and humans alike.

The princess stuck her tongue out at the girls. "You two are no fun!" She then looked to Sophia who was laughing about something. "Looks like it's just you and me Sophia!"

Raoul, who had been off to the side watching, barked and wagged his tail. Ophelia giggled at her Bernese mountain dog.

"Yes, what a shame!" the girl replied with a chuckle, trying to steady herself from an impromptu spin.

The music grew louder but Ophelia still heard Raoul's growl. She looked around and saw Christophe Neville, Lefou's son, walking over.

Since their younger days, Chris had caused trouble when it concerned the four girls. The girls used to find him one of the most annoying men they had the displeasure of knowing, but Ophelia didn't mind him hanging around now. Unlike his father, who spread nasty rumours about the royal family, Chris was tolerable. He grew out of his trickster stage but still held on to a controlling personality that could easily change into bullying, if he wasn't constantly reprimanded.

Still, there were certain things about him that made her squirm. For some ungodly reason Sophia had her eyes on him. Perhaps it was his slick back hair that reminded the young girl of raven's feathers. It could have been his natural charm, one neither of his parents possessed. Either way, Ophelia had no idea why in the world Sophia decided he was the one she wanted to waste her time with. At seventeen, Ophelia decided there was better things to do than focus on a male.

She could have done worse though, that was for sure. Chris strutted with grace and could fake his way through any intellectual discussion. He had at least two whole feet compared to his father and he was buff for his age, almost repulsively so. Ophelia had heard rumours of Chris looking like a certain hunter who had long since died, but the princess paid no heed. As far as she was concerned, he was just another ignoramus destined to make her life difficult and steal her friend's attention.

Ophelia's mocha eyes narrowed as she watched him walk over, his chestnut eyes drifting from the princess to her friends then back again. Suddenly he stopped in front of the young lady and stared at her.

"What do you want Chris?" She saw Raoul lumber over from the shade to the fountain. The large, shaggy dog had never liked Chris, especially when he was in the princess' personal space.

The boy of eighteen smirked. "I just came to make sure you ladies were alright. Am I bothering you?"

As Ophelia was about to say yes, Sophia slid in front of her friend. Ophelia leapt off the fountain and watched Chris' grin widen. The princess kept an eye on where his hands were at all times as Colene and Nan came over.

"I don't know what she sees in him," she muttered.

Nan shrugged. "I remember Mama saying he looks just like a man she used to love when she was young. Maybe that has something to do with it?"

Colene shook her head. "Doubtful. That man died. Although Lefou did idolize the poor bugger."

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Dead or not, Sophia can't take her eyes off him." The gypsy children continued to dance and while Ophelia wanted to, she couldn't seem to get back in the mood. Sophia had her hands on her hips and she must have told a joke or something because Christophe was laughing and he rarely laughed unless he had pulled a practical joke on someone.

"Maybe that's it," the princess muttered.

"What is?" asked Colene.

Ophelia shook her head. "Nothing." She bent down and scratched behind Raoul's dark ears. "I wonder what time it is."

Nan tilted her head back and squinted at the sun. "Almost dinnertime I think. I should be going. Mama needs help with the meal and I have to feed the animals before Papa comes home."

"How is that hawk doing? Is his wing fixed up?" Ophelia asked.

"No, but he's almost there. He should be flying around soon." Nan smoothed her skirts and gave the princess a hug. "I'll see you tomorrow. D'you think your parents would mind if I spent the night tomorrow? We haven't spent the night at each other's homes in years."

Ophelia nodded. "That's fine with me. I'll let them know. Goodbye!" The girls watched Nan dash off for home. The princess sighed. "How long do you think she'll keep it up?"

"As long as she can. You know what would happen if she told anyone," replied Colene.

"They'll find out if they stare long enough. It's not easy to hide bruises." She leaned her head against Colene's shoulder and sighed. "So, when are you going to ask Jamie to come over?"

Colene's face heated up. "I told you not to mention that," she whispered.

"Who's listening? Sophia and Chris are so wrapped up in each other they couldn't hear an elephant trumpet right in front of them."

"What's an elephant?"

"Something my brother once told me about from one of his books. But that's not the point. You shouldn't be afraid to say something just because he's a boy. I've grown up with him, he's nothing to be afraid of."

Colene sighed. "That's the problem. I have a feeling his mother would appreciate it if you set your sights on him instead of me."

Ophelia smirked. "It doesn't matter what Fifi wants. All that matters is who he's interested in."

Colene rolled her eyes. "Come on Sophia, we have to get home now. Our parents are waiting."

Sophia looked over from the fountain and pouted. "Oh Colene, can't we stay out a little longer?"

Colene shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I want to get home and get something in my belly."

Sophia sighed. She said something to Chris and he picked her up by her waist. Ophelia's eyes narrowed as she watched his hands linger on the village girl's figure. Christophe whispered something in her ear then left down the way to the tavern to pick up his father. The villager came over to her friends and sighed. "You two have the worst timing."

"He wasn't going to ask you to become his bride in the town square Soph," Ophelia pointed out. She would have said more, but she saw a man running towards her.

"Lumiere!" she called. "How late are we?"

Her god father and entertainment coordinator gasped as he skidded to a halt beside the girl. "Very I'm afraid. I got a little carried away speaking with my son. Come ma petit, we must hurry!"

Ophelia rolled her eyes but picked up her skirts. "Goodbye!"

The girls waved then wandered off as Ophelia and Lumiere along with Raoul ran back to the castle. She wasn't surprised he got carried away. It was difficult only seeing his son on occasion, but at least they spoke, unlike the years before when conversation was null. She glanced at the older man and saw the remnants of dried tears on his face. She wondered what made him cry but decided to pretend it was sweat for the time being.

"You should invite Colene to dinner next time you visit," she stated as they continued on. "Maybe it would help Fifi like her more."

Lumiere chuckled. "Perhaps, although I doubt it would work. Ma belle Fifi is very stubborn."

They continued on at a quick job until they neared the castle. "I've got to feed Raoul first before I go see them," she said, trying to catch her breath.

The older man smiled as he slowed his pace. "I will take care of it ma petit. Go to dinner and have a good time." She skidded to a halt and kissed both his cheeks lightly.

"Thank you Lumiere!" Then she was gone, hoping Mama wouldn't be too upset with her lateness.

 _At least I'll make it in time for the main course. That's better than last time._

As the princess passed a mirror, she smoothed her unruly brown curls and straightened her skirts. The brown corset was a tight fit as she took a deep breath, but it was too late to change. She turned on her heel and nearly collided with a familiar figure.

"Helena? What are you doing here?"

Her dark haired cousin folded her arms across her chest. At twenty-five, the young woman was still unmarried and Ophelia suspected she had dropped by to see what her uncle was going to do about fixing that.

"I came by for a visit, Cousin. Do you know where Uncle is?"

Ophelia repressed the urge to shudder at the coldness of the woman's voice. The younger of the two crossed her arms and looked around the elder. "Should be in the dining hall by now. Are you staying for dinner?"

"I plan to stay for a few days, yes." She turned around and started walking towards the dining room. Ophelia had no choice but to follow. She just hoped her family was having a good time.


	4. Chapter 3

In the royal dining hall, a canvas as wide and long as the north wall stretched across it, creating a backdrop Damien had spent the first twelve years of his life memorizing. To the right was a dragon painted bold green with gold outlines emphasizing the scales and a knight with his sword drawn, ready to defend the damsel who had yet to be seen. Fire exited the dragon's nostrils giving the canvas a bright pop of colour. Running towards the middle, the field where the knight was fighting turned into forest. The dark trees hung ominously while little fireflies danced in between the branches. In the exact middle of the painting was a fairy circle with pixies, brownies, and fairies danced. Their wings resembled crystals and although their clothes were patchwork, silver string stitched it together, making them sparkle. Forest changed to countryside, this time with a huge beanstalk shooting up from the ground towards the sky. A little boy all dressed in green was scaling it, his expression one of determination. When Damien was younger, he imagined he was that child on an adventure. As he grew older though, he learned the fairy tales behind these pictures and came to memorize those too.

Even now, as he stared at them while the family waited for Ophelia to arrive, he spotted things he hadn't before. Like how the face in the sun, a man's smiling face, appeared out of nowhere. His shifted his gaze to the fairies and almost thought he saw one wink at him. Damien shook his head, blinking a handful of times. 'I must be seeing things.'

The masterpiece had been commissioned by Emmanuel as a gift for his wife when they were expecting the twins. She wanted something she had grown up with, but painting books would have been quite tedious, so instead the couple selected certain fairy tales and had them painted throughout the castle as murals. The twins' shared suite was filled with knights, fictional kings, dragons, and other fantasy creatures. Ophelia's chamber was abounding with tales like "The Twelve Brothers", a story about boys turning into birds, and "The Elves and the Shoemaker". She had always been more inclined towards darker tales, leaving the stories about princesses and happily-ever-after to her sister. Camilla's favourite story was "Rapunzel" so one could only assume what her room was filled with, as well as articles from her second favourite, "Thumbelina."

Everywhere else in the castle there was little reminders of the queen's affiliation for books. Sometimes small panels were painted with a golden egg, a singing sword, or other things that pointed to certain stories. The twins and Ophelia often explored the castle writing down every piece of art they saw until they found all of them. Damien still had the list in his desk, one he just might read over later that night once Henri was in bed snoring.

"So Damien, how has your training been going with Sir Calvin?"

The prince whipped his head towards Chip who was still picking away at their vegetable appetizer.

Sir Calvin was the princes' physical trainer. He taught them fencing, jousting, sword play, archery, hunting, and a variety of other physical activities that, while they didn't exactly interest the prince, he learned for the sake of his dignity. He wasn't about to let his brother show him up at everything.

Damien shrugged from his seat to the right of his father. Chip was further down the long, oak table on the opposite side of Damien, across from Princess Camilla.

"It's going well. Next week we start hawking," he explained, moving his salad around the bowl with his fork. He would have preferred an almond or cashew instead.

"Which I plan on beating you at. After all, I've already got three years on you since nursing Ann back to health," Henri pointed out with a grin.

Chip chuckled as he shake of his head. "I wouldn't be so sure about that Henri. You never know, your brother could have a hidden talent for it."

Damien smiled his thanks to Chip. Although the boys had never been extremely close, Chip never picked on him either. Yet it was mainly just brotherly rivalry between the twins. This had been going on for years now and Damien was certain they would always have a friendly competition going between them.

Henri smirked from his seat between Damien and Camilla and finished the last of his salad. "We'll see about that, won't we Brother?"

Damien nodded, not really caring if he could hunt with a hawk or not. That was just another thing the young man truly wasn't interested in. He liked to swim, wander through his vineyard, and go on the occasional horseback ride, but that was as far as his outside interests went as of late. He was often found holed up in the family library. He was quite the story teller. The children appreciated it, Camilla included.

In his younger years, the prince had always worried Emmanuel would be disappointed that he didn't like to do all the things boys were supposed to enjoy. It became stressful at times to try and compete with Henri, to win his father's affection, but that proved unnecessary when Emmanuel expressed his pride in his youngest son.

"My papa wasn't always the most understanding person. He didn't let me read or spend much time in the kitchen like you get to. I want you to have that experience and choose whatever you want to do."

Damien suspected Belle prompted that admission, after all she was protective of her children to the point of interfering, but it meant a lot to the prince all the same. He still spent time outside with his brother, but the pressure was gone which, to his surprise, actually made the outdoors more enjoyable.

The prince exhaled deeply from his nose and wondered what in the world was taking Ophelia so long. He glanced from his grandpa, who was sitting beside Belle, to Mrs. Potts stationed beside Maurice, and sighed. Really, that girl had the attention span of a goldfish if she had already forgotten the dinner. Belle reminded her about it at least a half a dozen times just that morning before the princess escaped her mother's watchful gaze. Just as Damien was about to ask if they could start the main course, the missing princess made her appearance with a guest in tow. Damien watched as his elder cousin came to the head of the table and curtseyed to her uncle.

"My apologies for intruding on your meal, Uncle. I have been meaning to discuss some things with you," Helena explained.

Emmanuel smiled at his niece. "Nonsense, you're more than welcome to drop it. Whatever it is you want to discuss will have to wait till after dinner though."

Helena bobbed her head then took a seat near Camilla. In the meantime, Ophelia professed her apologies.

"I'm sorry about being late, I just completely lost track of time," she explained as she dashed over to greet her family. Mama received a kiss on the cheek, as did Papa while they occupied the head of the table. She then zipped over to her brothers who each received a kiss as well. Camilla's hair was ruffled, much to her displeasure, and by the time she made it around the table to her extended family, she was out of breath. It didn't help that when Chip got a hold of her, he hugged her clear off the ground.

"There's the little mischief maker. Did you have fun dancing?" he asked before placing her back on the ground.

Ophelia nodded eagerly. "Oh I always do! You can't go wrong with a little physical activity," she replied then went to the woman she thought of as grandmother whom she gave a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you did dearie. You have to burn all the extra energy somehow," the elder lady chuckled.

Maurice rose from his seat and embraced her with a chuckle. "Ophelia, run out of energy? Impossible!" It was a running joke in the family that Ophelia was powered by the sun and that, from sun up till sun down, she was always doing something. It would explain a lot of things, or so Damien thought, because as soon as night came, she curled up on any surface, unable to move for a while.

Ophelia was soon in her seat beside Camilla and the main course was brought out. Roasted duck, venison, turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing and three different kinds of soups; the list went on until Damien wasn't sure how they were going to eat all the delicious food. He did, however, spot Ophelia sneak a bone with some meat still on it for Raoul before he began digging in. The prince would have done the same for Melissa, but the cat was more partial to warm milk.

Maurice inquired about her day, to which the princess gave a long winded reply describing every last detail until near the end where she and her friends had been "so rudely interrupted" by a certain young man.

"If all he wants to do is talk with Sophia, I'm surprised he doesn't just go to her house every morning and steal her before I get there. She can't focus on much else when he's around," Ophelia grumbled as she cut her roasted duck wing into tinier pieces. "He's everywhere we are and all he does is follow Sophia with his eyes and laugh at her jokes. One of these days I'm just going to tell him to propose to get all the suspense over with."

Belle chuckled. "Oh Ophelia, it isn't always that easy!"

"Although I'm sure this Chris fellow would like it to be," said Emmanuel.

"I don't see what's so complicated about it," Ophelia replied. "Whenever I find a man I can tolerate for longer than an hour, I'm going to make sure he's direct about his intentions. I can't stand games," she muttered, stuffing her face with the delicious duck.

Damien smirked and shook his head at his sister's behaviour. He wondered when she would find that special man. He would have to be special in order to fall in love with Ophelia.

Chip chuckled. "Have you considered the fact that Chris could be intimidated by Sophia? You do hang around with some strong minded ladies," he said before popping a slice of cantaloupe into his mouth.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that. Sophia turns to jelly at the sight of him. All she can do is giggle and fawn over him."

Belle smirked at her father. "Sounds just like her mother."

Maurice chuckled. "Yes, quite right. It's a shame you never got along with those girls. They can be good company."

Belle waved her hand. "Not now Papa. It's in the past." She looked to Ophelia. "How were the gypsies? Did they bring any interesting news with them?"

As Ophelia explained what gossip she picked up, Damien thought about the bands that wandered through their village every so often. They were uncertain figures, but he felt a sense of kinship towards them. The rumours surrounding their lifestyle intrigued him, mainly because he couldn't read about it in books. He didn't feel a need to immerse himself with them like his sister did, but he still wanted to know more about them.

When Ophelia was done talking, Emmanuel got back on the previous topic. "You'd be surprised what young people do to get each other's attention. It can be intimidating to open yourself up to that kind of pain," he pointed out, glancing at Belle from the corner of his bright eyes.

This piqued Camilla's interest. "What did you do to get Mama's attention?"

Emmanuel chuckled, shaking his head as he recalled. "A lot of silly things."

Belle scoffed. "I hardly think an impromptu snowball fight was silly. I had fun. And I believe I started that," she interjected.

As Damien listened as his parents conversed about exactly what he had and had not done, he wondered if he would ever do some of those things to get a girl's attention. He hoped not, for it all seemed rather strange. The prince supposed it would make sense in time, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

After everyone was stuffed to the brim, the servants came out to clear the table and the family moved to the sitting room where a three man band was waiting to play some light music. Damien flopped onto the couch, letting out a groan as his full belly gurgled.

"I should have skipped that last piece of pie," he mumbled. Henri sat beside him and nodded.

"So good though. We need to get Chef to prepare cherry pies more often," Henri suggested. Damien agreed.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Helena sit by the window, away from where the rest of the family was gathered. She folded her hands on the lap of her silver dress and watched everyone settle in. Her baby blue eyes scanned the crowd and he noticed how straight she sat, like a rod pressed against her skin. In all his days he couldn't remember a time when she actually seemed to relax. Then again, when he was growing up she hadn't been around much. At thirteen she came back to the castle to live, but before then she had lived out of the country at a school for young ladies. After her mother's death a few months later, she moved to a piece of land she inherited from her mother and hadn't been around much since.

Maurice and Mrs. Potts sat across from the other couch his grandsons were resting on. Their piece of furniture was a dark blue and close enough to the fire that, if one wasn't careful, they could easily doze off after a good meal. Chip leaned against the fireplace with a glass of brandy in his hand, sipping it casually as his gaze drifted over the sitting room. His eyes landed on Helena more than once, but she made no move to suggest she noticed.

While the sitting room wasn't as grand as the other rooms in the castle, it was nice enough. The fireplace was large, the maroon carpet plush, and the windows grand with deep purple curtains. Another mural was there as well, but this one was split into three equally spaced parts between and surrounding the two windows. The one to the left of the first window held the picture of a fairy godmother with her magic wand. The painting between both windows concerned a prince with a gilded crown and shield with the emblem of a rose on it. Lastly, the final design was of a princess with flowing blonde hair and sea green eyes. Damien had never been able to figure out what fairy tale they were from, or if they were all from different ones. They were still lovely and from his position his eyes traveled from each one as he digested dinner.

Camilla curled up beside Damien with her head resting on his shoulder lightly. Her hair was tickling his neck and when he blew it aside, she giggled.

"That tickles!" she exclaimed with another giggle. Damien just smirked.

Belle and Emmanuel had taken their designated seat on a shared lounge chair near the fireplace. Emmanuel, who had his housecoat overtop his usual finery, laid an arm around the back of the chair as his wife settled beside him. Damien only then realized that his sister was missing. Soon enough she as well as Raoul made their appearance. Now out of her gypsy garb and into a slimming dress of apple red and sunflower yellow, she pranced over to Chip and tapped him on the shoulder as the music began.

"Would you care to dance?" she asked with a grin.

Chip bowed. "I certainly would." He led her off to the side and the two began dancing. It wasn't one of the faster ones, but right now that was probably for the best.

Damien saw his cousin glide over to his father. "Uncle, if I may have a word," Helena asked. She glanced at Belle then back at Emmanuel. "In private preferably."

The king sighed and sat up straighter. "Is it something that cannot wait until tomorrow? You are staying the night, aren't you?"

Helena's arms crossed and Damien watched as her gaze hardened. "I believe it is urgent enough, since I have been waiting for twelve years, but if you wish to wait until tomorrow, then it can wait until then." She curtseyed. "I am going to retire for the night. Goodnight Uncle."

Emmanuel nodded as he watched her leave. He then turned back to his family and smiled. "Now, where were we?"

Camilla slid off the couch and went over to the large dog. She sat beside him in front of the fire and as Raoul lay down, she scratched behind his ears. If dogs could smile, Damien was certain the mountain dog would be grinning from ear to ear.

The prince heard something purr near his ear and looked to find Melissa perched on the back of the couch. Her tail swished as she soaked up the heat from the fireplace. He picked her up and settled her on his lap, stroking her fur as she made herself comfortable. If Melissa was about, Fraser was sure to be close by. Damien kept his eyes peeled, hoping the little kitten wouldn't make too much of a mess if he got into anything.

"So Lila, what kind of pet are you going to ask Mama and Papa for?" Maurice inquired.

The little princess grinned. "A puppy so Raoul won't be lonely."

"Well that's very kind of you dearie," Mrs. Potts interjected, "but what kind of puppy? You know there are so many."

Camilla thought on this for a moment. Then, her face lit up. "A spaniel!"

Emmanuel and Belle glanced at each other and Damien noticed how they exchanged whispers before turning their attention back to the family.

Damien should have known it wouldn't be long before his little sister asked him to dance, but really, he was hoping Camilla would become so wrapped up in Raoul that she would forget. The princess walked over a few minutes later and took both her brother's hands, trying to pull him to his feet.

"Come on Dammy, dance with me!"

The prince let out a sigh but nodded. "Oh alright, if you insist. Henri, hold Melissa will you?"

The elder twin picked the cat up and set her on the ground. Damien narrowed his eyes but Melissa didn't seem to mind. She went over to Raoul and curled up beside the dog.

Damien and Camilla headed to where Ophelia and Chip were and eventually all four got a rhythm going that didn't make them crash into each other every five seconds. He heard his mother's laughter in the background as Henri began telling one of his famous stories that he saved for special occasions like this. Damien smiled as he spun his sister around and around. He just hoped he wouldn't lose his dinner from all this twirling.

Later, as he wandered to his room for the evening, he passed by the chapel reserved for the courtiers. He saw candles were lit and paused in front of the doorway. The stony room had a handful of pews but those were empty and from what he could tell, it didn't look like anyone was inside. He stuck his head in further to see someone kneeling at the raised altar. Two long, white candles were lit on either side of the figure with a collection of stubby white ones on the table above the person. The picture of Mother Mary was aglow and while the room was silent, he was sure he could hear someone whispering. Damien took a step inside and recognized the silver dress.

Helena was hunched over on her knees, her head bent down and her eyes likely closed. She was indeed whispering, but not loud enough for him to catch what she was saying. He remembered hearing his parents talk about Emmanuel's older brother once. Could she be praying for her long gone father? Or perhaps her mother, who died when she was only four. He recalled rumours of the temper her stepmother had. Perhaps she was praying for the woman's soul.

Damien stood there, helpless. He heard her start to cry but his feet wouldn't budge. He thought about how lonely she must feel in her manor, or even around family. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it instead. He backed up a step and exited the chapel.

Perhaps tomorrow he would find the right words.


	5. Chapter 4

Ophelia stomach grumbled as she made her way to the kitchen. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and narrowly missed colliding with Josephine. She apologized to the blonde maid who curtseyed in reply. Her bun had already started to come undone and Ophelia spotted a stain on her black skirt.

"Mademoiselle Ophelia, do you know where Prince Henri is?"

The princess shook her head. "No, why?"

The blue eyed woman blushed. "No reason. Have a good day Princess." She curtseyed again the dashed off, continuing to balance the breakfast tray above her head.

Ophelia's eyes narrowed as she watched the girl leave. She wondered what that was all about. She shrugged and continued on her way as the dawn's light came rushing in from the wide windows.

Inside the secluded kitchen, Ophelia made out the voices of a handful of people inside. She thought it was the maids and went inside without knocking, but what she came across surprised her.

Helena, wearing a slimming dress of red, was making tea on the island while Chip snatched a muffin. He leaned against the counter and smiled at the older woman. From Ophelia's position she couldn't see Helena's expression.

"—come to the village for a day. I think you would like it," said Chip. Ophelia watched his sandy locks fall over his eyes and how his lip twitched up into a smile.

"I doubt I would, Chip." Helena picked up her cup and took a long sip. "Shouldn't you be inventing something?"

Chip chuckled and was about to say something but Ophelia cleared her throat. She ran her sweaty hands over her dark pink skirt as she walked around the pair.

"Good morning Ophelia," Chip said.

"Good morning Chip," she replied. She went to the nearby counter and rummaged through the baskets. From the corner of her eye she saw Helena grab her cup and disappear.

Chip watched her go then turned around to face his friend. The elder leaned against the island, his brown vest bunching up as his arms crossed. "She's not the most welcoming person in the mornings," he mused.

Ophelia snorted. "She's never welcoming. Try again in the evening. She'll still be as crisp as she is now."

"I wonder why that is."

Ophelia shrugged as she pulled out a leftover pastry from the night before. "Ask my father. She is his niece."

Chip went over to the counter and stood beside her. "You're almost as icy as she is. Someone fall out of bed again?"

The princess stuck her tongue out at him. "That happened _once_. And no, I didn't. I just didn't get a good night's sleep." She opened the blue cupboard above her head and pulled out a plate.

"Worrying about Nan?"

Ophelia nodded after taking a bite of the pastry. "Yes," she said, almost spitting out some of the pastry on his cream shirt. She swallowed then brushed the crumbs off her navy blue tunic. "Have you been checking up on her like I asked?"

"Trying to, but it's not easy. Once her mother sees me coming that door is bolted up tight."

"Why not go when she's working at the tavern?"

"Because by then she's either in bed asleep or with you, and I don't want to wake her or disturb your fun."

Ophelia sighed. "True. Have you tried talking to her father?"

Chip snorted. "And earn myself a black eye? No thank you. If her cousins and uncles can't get a hold of him, I doubt I would be able to do anything." He squeezed her shoulder. "You're doing all you can Ophelia. Sometimes you can't fix everything."

The princess finished the pastry then glanced out the window. "Are you going to wait for Grandpa and your mother?"

He looked to the clock. "I'd best go set up the shop. Coming with me I assume?"

Ophelia smirked. "I was just going to ask you to come with me," she chuckled. Chip looped his arm through hers and they exited the kitchen together.

By the time they reached the village, the sun had fully risen and everyone was getting on with their day's business. Ophelia spotted her grandpa's shop that Chip partnered on. The sign in the shape of a hammer swung in the breeze and the princess smirked at the comical way the shop had a tendency to lean no matter the weather. She raised herself up on her tiptoes and pecked Chip's cheek.

"Have a good day Chip."

"Don't get into too much trouble," he teased then headed towards the shop. She heard the bell tinkle as it was opened. The princess turned on her heel and scanned the village square. She recognized everyone's face but didn't extend a greeting to any of them. She heard another bell ring and turned to her right. Jamie was putting out the family cat.

"Jamie!" she called, waving her hand.

The young brunette raised his head and smirked as he saw who it was. "Ophelia, you're up early this morning," he commented, the wind tousling his curly head.

"Indeed I am, as are you. What are you up to?" she asked while walking over to the Inn his step-father ran.

Jamie leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his apron. His boots were already covered in soapy water and she could guess how early his mother had gotten him up. "Nothing out of the ordinary. You know how it is. The most excitement I get is a tenant complaining about the meal, and even then Mama always takes care of the customer." He titled his lean face to the side. "Why?"

Ophelia placed a hand against the rod used to tie the horses to. "How would you feel about a little adventure?"

Lumiere's son's grin widened. "What trouble are you going to get me into?"

The princess chuckled. "Nothing more than usual. So, are you in?"

Jamie thought for a moment then sighed. "I don't think so. Today is washing day and Mama is always stressed come this time of the week. I doubt I could slip away even for a minute."

At the mention of her name, Fifi opened the door. Her light brown locks were clipped in a bob and she too was covered in soapy water. "Jamie, I told you to put the cat out minutes ago. Are you-" she paused once she noticed Ophelia. She smiled at the princess. "I didn't know we had company. Come in, come in!" she insisted.

Ophelia smiled at the older woman. "I'm afraid I can't come for a visit today Fifi. I've got some plans to take care of."

"Mostly ones involving going on adventures," Jamie smirked.

Fifi glanced at her son then the princess. "Why don't you go along Jamie, and make sure she stays safe? You don't get out enough."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "But it's washing day, I-"

Fifi waved her hand. "Nonsense, I can handle it myself. It wouldn't hurt for your father to be more involved in the basic upkeep of his inn either. Go on, I insist! Just be home for dinner." She kissed her son's forehead then shut the door.

The young man looked back at his friend and grinned. "Well, it looks like I can join you on your expedition." He untied his dirty apron and hung it on the rod, revealing brown trousers and a dark orange tunic.

Ophelia chuckled. "We can't leave just yet I'm afraid. We have a few more stops to make."

"Oh? Where?"

She laced her arm through his and began leading him outside of the village square. "You'll see."

After a five minute walk Jamie chuckled. "I should have guessed."

Ophelia shrugged as they climbed up the two steps. She knocked on the door quietly. "Do you honestly think I'd go anywhere without them?"

Jamie shook his head. "The more the merrier," he whispered just as Sophia opened the door. She had yet to change out of her sleeping attire and her hair fell in messy ringlets around her heart-shaped face.

"What are you doing here so early?" Sophia groaned. "I thought we weren't doing anything till later?"

"Change of plans," Ophelia stated. "Are the twins up?"

Sophia sighed. "No, thank goodness. We just got them to sleep. Thank you for knocking quietly, or I would have killed you." She glanced at Jamie. "What's he doing here?"

"I can't come on adventures?"

Sophia shrugged. She opened the door wider. "Come in, but be quiet. I'll get changed then we can get the others." The miller's daughter stepped further into the house to make room for her guests.

Ophelia shut the door behind them then let her eyes wander around the open area. The main floor held a kitchen and a sitting area. The couch had a blanket half falling off it and a scrunched up pillow. She guessed one of Sophia's brothers had taken the couch in the night. She could hear the distant churning of the grain as the family set about their daily business of bread making. The fireplace had been stoked at some point and the main level was toasty war. Jamie's arm fell from her grasp and he picked up the bottle of wine on the long, oak table.

"Looks like someone needed a drink," he murmured.

The princess smirked. "Probably Sophia. If the babies didn't get to sleep till now she was probably up with the mother the whole night."

"Should we let her sleep?"

Ophelia shook her head. "She'd rather be out and about then trapped inside with her in-law and the babies." She thought of Adeline, Elliot's wife and Sophia's sister-in-law. She hadn't been a pleasant woman to begin with, and the pregnancy hadn't mellowed her out. It didn't help that Elliot, the eldest of the three children, lived with his family on the top floor of the three story manor. His newborns also had a tendency to cry the whole time they were awake, making the household a stressful place to be. Hopefully they would find a place of their own soon.

"Colene next, right?"

The princess nodded. "She's closest. We won't be waking her, I know that much. Although her mother might not appreciate us dragging her away from chores," she chuckled.

Jamie chuckled. "Ah well, such is life."

"How did your visit with Lumiere go yesterday?" she asked as they continued to wait for the young woman.

He shrugged as he rolled up the sleeves in his tunic. "Fine I suppose. He asked me to come live in the castle with him."

Ophelia placed a hand on the chair to steady herself. "And what did you say?"

Jamie glanced at the princess. "I told him I'd have to think about it."

She stared at her feet as she gave a nod. "It hasn't changed much since you left."

"That was fifteen years ago, it has to have changed a bit."

Ophelia smirked at the young man. The creaking stairs caught her attention and she glanced over her shoulder to see Sophia sneaking down. She had on another baby blue dress, this one with longer sleeves and a cloak tied around her shoulders. Her hair still looked like she just rolled out of bed, but at least she was ready to go.

"She won't mind you leaving her with the babies all day?" Ophelia asked quietly.

Sophia smirked. "I wouldn't care even if she did. Mama and I spent the whole night tending to the children while she slept. She can handle them herself." She linked her arm with the princess' and led her to the door. "Off to fetch Colene!"

As predicted, Laura wasn't pleased to see her daughter go. "All you ever do is go off with your friends or stay up in your room writing. You can't expect your sisters to do all the work!" the tavern worker chastised.

Colene's face turned bright red. Ophelia stepped into the steaming kitchen where Laura was plucking a chicken. "I promise to bring her back in time to help out with anything you need."

The older blonde crossed her arms. Ophelia could see the woman was not budging. "What if I offer my services to come tomorrow and help Colene catch up on the chores she has missed? Would that be a suitable idea?"

Laura thought for a moment then gave a nod. "Be here at six. That's when my brother-in-law will deliver the loaves of bread."

Ophelia shook on their deal then the group of four left. Colene's pink shoulders sagged. "You didn't have to do that you know."

The princess shrugged. "Would you have been able to come if I didn't?" When Colene didn't answer Ophelia smiled. "Don't fret, I don't mind doing a bit of hard labour. It'll change up my routine."

Jamie came up beside the girls and wrapped an arm around Colene's shoulders. "Besides, we could all use some fresh air."

Ophelia smirked as her friend's cheeks lit up. "I-I suppose."

The group continued on until they were back in the village. Ophelia marched up to Nan's front door and knocked. No one answered. She knocked again, louder. Still nothing. "Nan, are you in there? Nan?" She heard a chair move and footsteps, but they were retreating. She waited a minute longer but by then Sophia and Colene had already taken both her hands in theirs.

"She's not coming Ophelia," said Sophia.

"Maybe tomorrow," Colene said.

Ophelia sighed. She wanted to wait longer, or better yet, to climb to the second story and rescue her friend from whatever prison she had encaged herself in, but adventure was calling. If they didn't leave now they would have to let it wait for another day. So she let her friends lead her away from the poor excuse for a home.

They almost made it out of the village before another interruption showed itself in the form of Chris. He had a large goose and a few rabbits hanging off the back of his horse. "Good morning ladies," he glanced at Jamie, "and sir."

Sophie ran her fingers through her hair as she bit her bottom lip. "Good morning Chris. Did you have a good hunt?" she asked, taking a step closer to him.

Ophelia rolled her eyes and leaned back against the nearest shop. Jamie came to stand beside her and tilted his head down. "Cue the petty banter that ends in cooing noises," he whispered.

The princess repressed her chuckle. She cleared her throat. "Okay Sophia, let's get going!"

Chris turned his head to the princess. "Where are you off to?"

"None of your business Chris," Ophelia said. She took Sophia's hand.

"We're going to the woods for a walk," Sophia said. "Do you want to come?"

Ophelia hit her friend's arm. "Sophia!"

Chris leapt from his horse and grinned. "Of course! I can't let you wander through there without protection." Jamie opened his mouth to say he would protect them but Chris talked over him. "Just let me take these to the butcher's then we can be on our way."

Well, it was too late to say no now. Chris came back ten minutes later then the group departed. Ophelia led the way with Colene and Jamie right behind and Chris with Sophia at the end. The princess didn't have a real destination in mind, but she was open to what the woods had to offer her. It just so happened to be a manor.

They turned down a path and were confronted by a manor alone in the wood. The trees grew around it and sheltered its tall roof from the sun. Ophelia gripped the tree she was nearest and leaned against it as she took the building in. She had been through the woods on multiple occasions but she hadn't noticed the three-story building before.

Jamie came up beside her and whistled. "Would you look at that," he muttered. "Think it's abandoned?"

The princess squinted. The windows looked clean and the dark wood panelling was freshly polished. She shook her head. "No, someone's in there." She took a step out of the brush but before she could get further, Jamie's hand grabbed her shoulder.

"What?" Ophelia asked, turning her head towards him.

"Wolves," Chris stated quietly. "We have to leave."

"Are you insane? The wolves don't come this close to the castle."

"Listen," Chris insisted. Ophelia sighed but did as she was told. She heard the distant howl. "They're a few miles away. We have to get back to the village where it's safe."

"Didn't you bring a gun to protect us?" the princess asked.

"I'm not shooting wolves. We're in their home, they have a right to be here. We don't. Let's go."

For the first time, Ophelia actually respected what came out of his mouth. She let Jamie pull her back behind the brush and they made their way quietly out of the wood. Ophelia kept looking over her shoulder to see the manor but it had disappeared.

 _I wonder who lives there._


	6. Chapter 5

"Papa," Damien called from his position at his father's desk, "where do you want me to put the itinerary from the last council meeting?" he inquired as the heavy stacks of paper rested on his lap.

Emmanuel glanced at his son from the corner of his eye, briefly taking his gaze away from the paragraph he was reading, and motioned with his tawny head towards the filing system near the back of the king's study. "Just put it there Son. I'll go through all the papers after dinner and sort them out myself."

The young prince did as he was told and laid the papers on top of last month's stack which his father had yet to get to. The two men often were the ones holed up in the elder's study, working through petitions and other important papers that were placed in the darker room. While the shelves were usually stripped clean of loose papers, bound books of every law created in the kingdom lined the thick mahogany pieces. There was a fireplace tucked away to the right of Emmanuel's massive desk and another door to the left leading to a private library. A rich Persian rug with gold tassels covered the length of the average sized room, one Damien remembered playing blocks on in his childhood days.

Yet the desk was where Damien currently spent most of his time. Letters from across the country were dropped on it hourly and it was Damien's job to go through every last one. He sorted them into categories such as agricultural issues, economic problems, civil disputes, and so on. The prince didn't mind the task. It was often a chance to catch up with his father, even if sometimes all they did was discuss the grain shortage in the north. Out of all the children, Damien was the only one to have full access to his father's study which he took very seriously. He attempted to keep it as neat as possible and not to break anything valuable, like the colossal globe stationed opposite Emmanuel's filing system.

While Damien worked with his father, it was typical for the other children to be busy with other tasks. Henri often came back from his afternoon exploits with tales of Ann catching however many creatures or spotting foraging bears a mile away.

Although their mother tried to keep Ophelia inside for stitching lessons, Ophelia was not interested in learning these womanly tasks. She outright refused them and if Belle's back was turned, one could be sure the princess would find a way to escape her mother's watchful gaze. As typical of the rebellious youth, she stuck to the village where her friends and gypsy brethren lay. Damien could only guess where she had gone off that morning but hoped she at least was keeping out of harm's way.

Despite Camilla's drive to see wildlife, she did listen to Mama and focus on her lessons, although Damien suspected she found them just as awful as Ophelia did. After all, who wanted to be trapped with a needle in hand when there were fields of grass to run through?

 _Perhaps Ophelia managed to convince Mother to let her take Camilla off castle grounds_ , the prince mused as he went through another stack of letters. 'Doubtful though, since she was here for breakfast unlike Ophelia and Chip.' He exhaled as he straightened the papers so their edges lined up nicely.

Just as the work was starting to become a little dull, a name caught his attention on a piece of parchment. It was tattered on the edges and had started to discolour. The title read _Princess Tatiana of France._ Damien remembered the name. Though he never met the woman, his auntie Tatiana stuck in his memory.

The letter was addressed to his father, and despite his craving to peek at the content, he turned his attention to the king.

"Papa, there's a letter for you." He swiveled in his chair and extended the paper to the older man. "It has Tatiana's name on it."

Emmanuel paused in his analysis and turned to his son with a raised eyebrow. With quick strides he towered over his son, the sleeves on his ivory shirt brushing against Damien's matching attire as he took the parchment from the prince's hands. Emmanuel scanned the content then folded it up and placed it on the table.

"I wonder how that got in there," he muttered.

"Papa?" Damien watched with anxious eyes as his father went back to his book, acting as if nothing had happened.

When he got no response, he reached over and just as he was about to read the letter, Emmanuel spoke up.

"I thought I burnt that thing," he sighed. Emmanuel turned towards his son and leaned against the book case. "Tatiana sent me a letter when she was in the convent. It spoke of things that are best left alone," he explained quickly as his gaze averted his son's.

Damien's confusion grew. With a furrowed brow he glanced at the words again. "How come you didn't burn it?"

Emmanuel shrugged. "It must have slipped my mind."

As he was about to turn back to the prince, Damien frowned. "What does the letter say?"

Damien never knew his aunt well enough to guess what she could say in a letter. To be frank, none of the children heard enough stories to have any clue about how Emmanuel's family functioned. It didn't seem to Damien his father would let him know any time soon. He did, however, know the king grew up with an emotionless father, a soft spoken mother, and an aggressive elder brother.

As he sat and waited, he wondered about his father's young years, especially concerning the family dynamics. After everything Emmanuel had gone through with the curse, the boy doubted he wanted to recall the years leading up to his fall from grace.

Emmanuel stared at the carpet. "It's a long story, Son. We have to go back to the beginning."

Damien crossed his legs and folded his arms over his chest. "These papers aren't going anywhere."

The king didn't say anything for a moment then chuckled. "Fair enough. I suppose you are old enough to know. You know after my brother's death your Aunt Tatiana went to a nunnery and became a bride of Christ, correct?" Damien nodded. "She never had any children, nor did she want to be a part of court any longer, so I granted her request and did not contact her, which was also part of her request."

"I know, and Helena hated her, didn't she?"

Emmanuel picked up his glass of brandy and took a sip. "You'll have to ask her that. I can only tell you what I know for sure."

The young man leaned forward. He had never heard his father talk this much about his family. "What was Grandfather's name?"

Emmanuel squinted. "Have I never told you it? Did you not look it up once as a boy?"

"You told us not to. You put the books in your private library."

The king nodded. "Right. Well, names are a good place to begin anyhow. Your grandfather is Lucien and your grandmother was named Eloise. You know your uncle Caine's name already." He sat on his navy blue chair near the fireplace, brandy in hand.

"My father was a hard man to please. On more than one occasion I saw him pit animals of all sizes against each other and let them scrap it out just for entertainment. He was a good ruler, but bloodthirsty too. As expected, he was a horrid father. He would pit Caine, older than me by five years, against me. Caine was allowed to run around the castle with a sword threatening to cut my hand off for touching his things. It was all very animalistic, a disgusting display of power." He took a sip of his glass. "Don't tell your mother, but sometimes I still have nightmares of Caine chasing me." He cleared his throat.

"If Father was drunk enough, he would have us wrestle in front of the whole court and the loser would be flogged in the stable yards. He wanted to see who was the strongest, fastest, the best son possible. I had to fight for his love, and in the end it didn't amount to much. I just became what he was: mean and angry all the time."

 _Lucien's meaty hands shoved his sons into the centre of the ballroom floor. He was drunk; Emmanuel could smell the ale wafting off his father's furs. He didn't want to fight his brother, such a massive boy of fifteen, but the younger couldn't say no either. No one disobeyed the king._

" _Now get to it boys! I want to see who the real man is!" With that, Caine lunged towards Emmanuel. This surely would end in bruises, maybe a broken bone or two._

"The fighting finally got to such a point where Eloise, bless her gentle heart, arranged to move me to my own castle, the one we're in now, so I would be away from Caine's aggression and Father's encouragement.

"At first it seemed like a good idea, but it only proved to be fatal. The damage was already done. With a whole castle at my bidding, the power got to my head and made my anger grow. Within my first year there, I grew to think that everything, including the staff's own lives, was under my control and that if I didn't display the proper amount of control I would lose what little I had. Those were not the years I recall fondly, but are necessary to be told in order for you to get a picture of what my brother and I grew up around." Adam paused briefly, taking a deep breath, and then continued.

"When the enchantress cursed me, the news spread to the castle my family was in. Father was horrified that his son had been turned into a beast, and publically denounced me, insinuating no son of his could be cursed like I. Mother was so afraid. She attempted to visit once, but when she saw me watching from the window, she ran before stepping foot inside. I never heard from Caine once during those ten years. I did, however, pick up news about them. Sometimes a traveller would stumble upon the grounds and before I sent them away, I'd get a piece of news from them, pretending I would spare them if their news entertained me enough. I vividly remember hearing about Caine's coronation and wedding."

" _S-Sire the man said-"_

" _I know what the man said!" Emmanuel yelled, his beastly growl following the angry words. He could hardly believe his brother was now king of the country. With a wife as well! Emmanuel wondered how long it would take Caine, now twenty-two, before he started his own family._

 _Emmanuel could only imagine the horrid little spawn he and his ice queen would create. The traveller described the new Queen Renée, whom the subjects had nicknamed "Ice Queen". She was, as expected by the insult, a cold girl. She had raven's hair and dewy skin that was like ice. Rumours were spread that if one touched her, they would be turned into ice sculptures. Emmanuel wasn't surprised one bit that she was whom his brother ended up with._

" _Get him off the property now," the beast growled. He didn't want to waste food on a measly little traveller, especially considering the news he brought was less than satisfactory._

"Were your parents still alive at the time?" Damien interrupted

The king shrugged as he folded his hands over his stomach. "My father was not. His heart failed him. Mother was around, but just barely. Her health was failing fast, but she was tended to by Caine with great care. I thanked him for that, once I found out how he looked after our mother.

"A year before I was to meet your mother, my mother's bout with pneumonia claimed her. I couldn't pay my respects and I never did see her while I was a beast. I was relieved she was gone though. She truly was an angel, and she belonged up in heaven instead of by her husband's death bed or on earth to watch her sons be turned into animals. With my parents gone, my desperation to enter a world without them grew. I needed to be freed from the curse.

"Your mother has told you our story multiple times, so I won't go into detail. After the curse was lifted, I got in contact with my brother. It turns out his first wife had been poisoned a year prior to my letter. Apparently she wasn't as beloved by the people as Caine had come to believe. We did try to re-establish a connection of some sort, seeing as both of us had been changed by time and external circumstances, but it never really worked. He was a widow with a daughter of four years in desperate need of a motherly figure. Naturally, Caine was on the hunt for a new lady to take his wife's place. I didn't expect him to fall in love," Emmanuel suddenly chuckled with a shake of his head, "oh no, that was a complete surprise."

' _I have met the woman of my dreams Brother! She came to me in a vision one night, and when I went to the archery tournament, there she was standing next to the duke of Burgundy! The most stunning creature I've ever seen, and she loves children. Can you imagine my luck?'_

 _Caine's letter had been read over half a dozen times now, but Emmanuel still could not believe his heartless brother had found a woman he could fall in love with. He briefly pitied the woman for Emmanuel knew, or thought he knew, his brother's nature. He hoped having a daughter had cooled Caine's temper. He wondered if he would have a chance to meet his niece._

' _Her name is Lady Tatiana, Duchess of Normandy. Perhaps you remember her father; he was often at the parties we wrestled at.'_

 _No, Emmanuel didn't recall him, and he doubted if he ever would really want to anyhow. He skimmed the letter again then placed it in his desk, locking it in with the rest of the important papers. The prince left for dinner, hoping to beat Belle down there so he could find a way to surprise her with the engagement ring. Hopefully she wouldn't feel as if they were moving too fast and say yes._

"Did Mama say yes?"

Emmanuel shook his head with a smirk. "She made me wait another month before accepting. She had good enough reason to wait though. It was hard adjusting to castle life and she wanted to get settled before considering such a big step.

"After Caine married Tatiana, it was discovered that she could not carry a child full term. She only managed to birth one child, and he died minutes later. They were unsuccessful for two years before they began discussing other options. I know my brother still loved her, but Caine needed an heir for the crown. I saw them at my wedding, and while they seemed happy, I knew he was upset with himself and his lady. I caught them arguing just before the reception was about to begin."

" _. . . Stop shouting at me Caine! You know I feel awful enough as it is. All I want is to give you a son," Tatiana whispered, placing a hand on her flat belly._

 _Caine huffed, his arms crossed over his chest. From Emmanuel's position behind a pillar, he hoped things would not turn physical._

" _Well then what are we going to do, my lady? If you cannot carry a child then the kingdom will go to my brother. You know he is not well equipped to handle it, especially after being a beast for ten years!"_

 _Tatiana sighed in defeat. "I don't know Caine, I wish I did," she sniffed. Emmanuel spotted tears and felt grief for his sister-in-law. He could only imagine how he would handle this if Belle was unable to carry a child. He hoped for their sake, mainly hers that she was able._

 _The prince saw his brother exhale deeply then make his way over to his wife. Caine's arms wrapped around her midsection and brought her to rest against his chest as he attempted to comfort her. Emmanuel was thoroughly surprised by his brother's actions. Never had be once seen Caine hold anything or anyone in such a manner._

" _Hush now Tattie, we will figure something out. We always do."_

"Of course I was upset that Caine didn't trust me, but I had more important things to think about at the time. Eventually, my brother's reassurances led to nothing. By the time he was in bed with a severe lung infection, he still only had his one daughter from the first marriage. When I visited him last, he told me I was named as his heir and that he trusted me with the kingdom. I had done a lot of work since we had last seen each other and with your mother's support, I wasn't thinking of failure.

"On the day of your third month with us, only a week since I saw Caine, I received a letter from Tatiana informing me of his death. That was when she told me her wish to stay in a nunnery and to cut all ties with our family. I believe she secretly thought I had something to do with her miscarriages, seeing as she had a little girl in her youth which was left behind with her farming parents since she couldn't care for the babe. I later found this out through letters.

"Since I had been cursed, I suppose she thought I now had a connection to magic of some kind, which of course I didn't. But I granted her wishes all the same. It was easier than to fight her. Your cousin, however, was another matter."

 _Adam ran a weary had over his face. He had been sitting up in bed for the past hour, trying to figure out what to do with his niece. She was six, and while still young enough to be considered innocent, she was a terror. Helena was similar to her father in his younger years; constantly throwing tempers, hitting others, running away . . . the king tilted his head upward against the backboard with a sigh. What was he going to do with her?_

' _She can't stay here any longer. She purposefully tipped the cradle over with Henri in it. If I hadn't been there to catch him . . .' Emmanuel could only imagine what would have happened to his little boy. 'She's too dangerous to be around such small infants. What to do, what to do?'_

 _Belle, who had been sleeping peacefully beside him, arose when she heard the weeping of one of the twins. "Emmanuel, try to get some rest," she insisted, pecking his forehead. "There's no reason both of us have to lose sleep. I'm sure you'll come up with an idea in the morning after some rest." His wife always did think reasonably. Yet he rose from bed, wrapping an arm around her waist lightly._

" _I'll help you with the boys then we'll both rest, agreed?"_

 _Belle chuckled to herself but nodded all the same._

"Then you sent her to another court, right? The one in England?" Damien interrupted.

Emmanuel sighed. "Unfortunately, we did. She stayed until she was thirteen then came back here. You know the rest."

The two sat in silence for a moment. "Thank you Papa, for telling me. But what about this letter? What does it say?"

Emmanuel rose from his seat, putting the empty glass of brandy on the table. "Tatiana asked me to consider naming Helena as my heir. She has always felt the girl was jilted out of her father's will. In it, she also says that if I do not, she will give the girl property and requests I arrange a suitable marriage so the girl is taken care of."

Damien leaned further back against the seat. Why would his aunt suggest such a thing? Princes made better heirs then princesses, everyone knew that. Perhaps the woman had been praying about it or something.

"What did you do?" Damien asked.

Emmanuel picked up the letter and ran his fingers over the parchment. "I let her give Helena the manor. What else could I do?"

"So you didn't write her name as heir on your will?"

The king shook his head. "No, I did not. Although a part of me still thinks it would be the right thing to do. She's lost so much in her lifetime. It seems cruel to deny her something." He sighed. "Then again, you and Henri are my children and it is my duty to protect you. She is family, but you boys and your sisters, and your mother of course, come first."

Damien nodded. "Is that why she is here, to ask to be put as your heir?"

Emmanuel chuckled. "No, thank goodness. She is asking about the other part of Tatiana's letter though."

"Marriage you mean?"

The king nodded. "Yes, it seems I have neglected my duty to find her a husband, or that's how she put it after breakfast when we had our meeting before you came in. I suppose I should start looking. Although it seems silly to me. If she was meant to find love, she will find it on her own, without my help."

Damien thought about seeing her crying last night. Was that why she was in tears? The prince got up from the desk and poured himself a glass of ale. "You should look though. Sometimes things need a little helping, right?"

"I suppose so. Who are you thinking of?"

Damien shook his head. "I'm no matchmaker." He went back to his chair and started looking through the pages again. Emmanuel turned his back on his son and tossed the paper into the fireplace.

"Neither am I unfortunately." The king walked around the desk and read over his son's shoulder. He took the paper from the boy's hand and went to lean against the window. "What do you think we should do about this farmer's request?"

And so the morning went on.


	7. Chapter 6

Sophia sighed as she gazed into the hat store in the village. "I wish I could afford one," she muttered.

Ophelia smirked as she leaned against the windowsill. "You could always ask Chris to buy you one," she teased.

The blonde rolled her eyes. "I want it so I can impress Chris. It would take away from the whole point if he bought it for me."

"You could always get a job," Nan pointed out as she licked the melted butter that ran from her bun down her hand.

"Not all of us have a way with children," Sophia replied. "I watch my nieces enough as it is. And cleaning houses or shops isn't anything I don't already do for free."

Ophelia pulled off a piece of Nan's bun and ate it. "If you think buying a hat is going to make Chris get down on one knee, maybe you need to prioritize your goals."

Sophia huffed. "Just because your future is set doesn't mean I can't look out for mine!"

"Whose future is set? I don't see any men lined up around the corner looking for my hand," Ophelia said lightly. She guessed today wasn't the day to tease Sophia, but it was hard not to. For the past five months she saw her friend go to extreme lengths to get Chris' attention. She went hunting with him, helped him do the shopping, Ophelia even saw her mending one of Chris' shirts.

"Well who else is going to?" Sophia stated. "His mother certainly can't." Ophelia admitted the logic behind that but it still made her uncomfortable to see her doting on the young man. Nan and Colene didn't like it either, but there wasn't much they could do.

"If her mama found out either one of us was meddling we would get the switch," Colene pointed out.

Speaking of Colene, Ophelia glanced at her young friend. The girl was still in the shop across the street. Ophelia saw her reaching up to grab a new pot as Jamie said something while staring at her long shopping list. Laura was still hesitant to let Colene go out with her friends so a shopping list was usually slipped into the girl's pocket before she left the house.

Sophia muttered something about men being too intimidated by Ophelia before she went into the shop to browse. Nan stood beside Ophelia and took another bite.

"Don't mind her, she's just stressed. Staying up all night with the babies makes her antsy."

Ophelia nodded. "I know, she doesn't bother me." The princess watched Jamie reach up and pull down the desired pot. His cream tunic rose up and she caught a glimpse of his tan belly. Ophelia glanced down at her feet.

"Is it hard?" Nan asked.

The princess glanced at her. "What is?"

"Watching them together," Nan explained. Ophelia looked over again at Colene and Jamie. They had moved further into the shop and she noticed Jamie's hand linger on the girl's arm. She felt something in her tighten and she gripped the windowsill with one hand.

Not long ago, although it seemed to her like another lifetime, she was once the one Jamie wanted. At the time, that was what she thought. They were young, too young in her mind, to fall in love, but perhaps that was what it was. She couldn't explain it any other way. Joined at the hip since introduction, it was hard not to feel something for the boy. He had his father's charm, and back then it was endearing, but as she looked at it from an older perspective, she found it deceitful.

But he loved her, that much was true, and he made her happy. That was enough. They were thirteen, fourteen, and no one knew. No one saw them riding through the glen together, or sneaking kisses behind the inn before his mother called for him. No one asked why she drifted further and further from the castle.

It ended though, as all things do. Seasons changed and Ophelia's status put a strain on them. At parties when he was invited, he could not dance with her, for the courtly gentlemen always stole her away. When in the village, as all the ladies flirted with Jamie, she could not go over and claim him as hers. Eventually, she put a stop to their relationship. She kept her chin up and when she saw him, she acted like nothing ever happened between them.

Now, three years later, she saw the way he still looked at her, like all she had to do was say I want you and he'd be there. She almost said it when he told her he might move back to the castle. But then she thought of Colene and how upset she would be. The girl never found out, and Nan promised never to tell when Ophelia confessed it to her long after the affair ended. Ophelia's heart may still keep a spot reserved for Jamie, but her mind would never let her hurt her friend in such a way.

Ophelia stared at her friend and shook her head. "No, it isn't," she said. The princess put one foot in front of the other and went to the bookshop. Nan picked up the pace and was soon by her side.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. You always look so sad whenever I accidently bring it up."

Ophelia took her friend's buttery hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "It's alright, Nan. Don't worry. Are you staying at the Randa's house tonight?"

Nan shook her head, her hair falling in front of her eyes. "No, it's the Florian's tonight. The Randa's are tomorrow."

"I'm glad they let you stay overnight with them. I'd hate to think of you alone in your house with your father."

Nan shrugged. "It's really for their benefit. Madame Florian is with child again and she can't keep up with the six children. I'd go over more often if I could but her eldest at twelve does a good job of looking after the little ones with her mother. It's at night that she needs the most help."

Ophelia nodded. "Do you need anything? You have enough money for the next week?"

Nan laughed. "Ophelia, stop worrying, I'm fine! Mama and I have enough of everything."

The princess wasn't sure if she believed her friend, but she nodded all the same. "If you're sure."

The girls entered the book store and got themselves lost between the shelves. The owner was out to lunch but he left the door unlocked for Ophelia.

"Have you thought about that manor you saw a while ago?" Nan asked. Ophelia heard her mutter a curse as she dropped a book.

Ophelia closed her eyes and could still see the place as clearly as she did five months ago. She tried to find her way back to it, but even with Raoul's excellent nose she couldn't locate the manor.

"A little, why?"

"No reason, I was just wondering. I would have liked to have been there."

"We would have liked to have you."

Nan turned the corner and sighed. "Again, I'm sorry about that. I just—wasn't up to it. I had a headache."

Ophelia's lip curled up. She had a few choice words about this "headache", like was it caused by her father thumping her on the head? But she just nodded. "No need to worry about it. I'm sure if Sophia asks nicely Chris could always take us back."

Nan chuckled. "He probably doesn't remember either. You know how he is."

The girls laughed then kept on browsing. Ophelia found a few she liked and one she was sure her mother hadn't read yet. They went to the counter and Ophelia left more than enough to cover the cost. She also paid for Nan's book, despite her protests.

"I'll pay you back," Nan insisted.

Ophelia shook her head and linked her arm through the girl's. "You hardly need to do that." When they exited the shop, Ophelia saw a cluster of gypsy children race down the dusty path towards her.

"Ophelia!" they chorused, colliding against her legs as they hugged her. The princess chuckled and greeted each of them.

"What are you doing back so soon? I thought you would be gone another week."

"Did you miss us?" one of the boys asked.

She smiled. "Of course I did, what a silly question!" They asked her to juggle for them but Ophelia explained she could not. "How about I read you a story instead?" The children found that a suitable substitute and dragged her to the fountain. Nan sat with them on the ground and held one of the little ones in her lap. The princess crossed her legs and picked on of the thick ones.

"Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived on a farm. His name was Jack . . ."

The story was almost through when from the corner of her eye Ophelia noticed one of the gypsy women nearby watching her. The princess quickly darted her eyes and saw the woman wave for her to come over. The crowd, which had now grown to include most of the village children and even a few adults, hadn't noticed.

Ophelia finished the story then asked for a break. "Nan will read to you until I get back," she explained. Nan got up and took her friend's place, letting Ophelia head over to the other woman.

As she got closer, Ophelia recognized the woman. She was older, about ten years Belle's senior, and one of her grandchildren was in the crowd nearby. Her black hair was mostly silver now and her arms were crossed over her busty chest. Her usual smile was replaced by a frown and creases along her brow. Ophelia wondered what was wrong.

"Martha, it's good to see you," she said as she leaned over to kiss the woman on the cheek.

"It is good to be back," Martha replied. She took the princess' hands and squeezed them tightly. "I have something I must tell you. It is important," she whispered, her eyes darting around.

Ophelia's brow furrowed. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know if I should say anything, but . . . when the band and I were travelling, we passed through some villages and I heard—things that I should not have."

"What kind of things?"

Martha glanced at her bare feet. "I heard talk of your father and his niece, Princess Helena. Some of the villagers talked of her being the next ruler of the kingdom. Or—for her to take over for your father now."

Ophelia's eyes widened. "You mean—kill my father so she could rule instead?"

Martha nodded. "Something like that, yes. I couldn't hear everything, but what I did hear disturbed my greatly. Your father is a good man. His brother never let us into the country. Our band, as well as many others, loves him. But . . ."

The woman did not need to finish. Ophelia could already guess what was coming next. If there wasn't something going on in the kingdom, someone was bound to stir up trouble. It just so happened to concern Princess Helena. Ophelia wondered if that was why she came to visit all those months ago. Did she know of the supporters who were willing to commit murder and treason so she could take the throne? Thinking on it made the girl feel sick. She never got along with Helena, but she didn't think the woman was capable of such cruelty and deceit.

Martha's hands gripped hers tighter. "I am sorry Princess, I am sure I misheard."

Ophelia shook her head. "I am sure you did not. Thank you for telling me." The women hugged. "Would you be willing to come back to the castle and tell my father what you heard?"

Her face paled. "Oh no, I cannot do that. No one knows I heard what I did, and no one from the band would approve."

The princess nodded. "I will have to tell him then. Do you have any proof I can show him?"

Martha paused then gave a nod. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of crumpled parchment. "When I was walking by the group, they were handing out these papers. I cannot understand what they say, but I'm sure there is something useful there."

Ophelia folded up the paper and stuffed it in her pocket. "Thank you Martha, my family and I are forever in your debt."

"Think nothing of it Princess. After all you and your family have done for me and mine, it is the least I can do."

Ophelia tilted her head to the sky and saw it was nearing dinner. Martha noticed too. "Come along children, it's time to get back to the carriages!"

The gypsy children groaned, as did the villagers. She promised to visit them tomorrow, with her juggling toys in tow then watched them leave with Martha. She turned back to where Nan stood and went back to her friend. When she sat beside Nan, the girl's hand gripped hers.

"What did she say?"

Ophelia swallowed the lump in her throat. "She said," she shut her eyes, "she said my cousin is trying to take the throne from my father," she whispered. The paper in her pocket started to turn to lead, making the girl feel heavy.

Nan squeezed her hand. "Are you sure?"

Ophelia nodded. "Yes, as sure as I can be."

"What's wrong?" Sophia's voice asked. The princess opened her eyes and saw the young woman come over with Chris, Colene, and Jamie in tow. The shopping appeared to be done, for Colene's basket overflowed. Chris had his gun slung over his shoulder with a hand on his hip. She didn't see any of his catch in hand.

The princess glanced at Nan who didn't say a word. Ophelia looked back at her friends and smiled. "Nothing, I'm just not feeling well. I'd best head home."

As she stood, Jamie stepped forward. "I could escort you, if you'd like. With Raoul back at the castle I would feel better if someone went with you."

"We could all come with you," Colene said.

"I have my horse ready, if you aren't capable of the trek," Chris offered.

Sophia sighed. "Oh Chris, that's so nice of you," she said, her doe eyes turned to the young man.

Ophelia felt privileged to have such wonderful friends, but she couldn't accept any of the offers. "Thank you, but I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Are you sure, Ophelia?" Nan asked.

The princess nodded. "Really, I'll be safe. Now you'd all best get home too. Dinner is likely on the table."

Chris was the first to agree. He offered to escort Sophia home and she readily agreed. Sophia did, however, give the girl a hug before leaving. Colene went next and while Ophelia insisted Jamie go with her to help her with the groceries, he said he would catch up with her. Nan left with her cousin instead. When they were alone, Jamie took a few steps forward until he was an inch away from Ophelia.

"Are you going to tell me what's really going on?"

Ophelia opened her mouth, the words right there, waiting for her to say them. She thought about how she used to tell him everything. There had never been any secrets between them, but now she just couldn't say what she found out. If she did, that would make it real. The weight in her pocket would bury her beneath his feet. She felt his hand on her arm, the heat sinking past her yellow sleeves.

"Ophelia?"

The princess snapped her mouth shut and took a step back. "I have to go." She turned on her heel and jogged out of the village. Once she was far enough away, she took a deep breath and slowed down to a walk. She wasn't sure how she was going to make it through dinner. As soon as her father asked her how her day was she was going to pull out that letter and tell him everything. Her mother would cry. No, she wouldn't, she would save that for later, in private with Emmanuel. Camilla wouldn't understand and her brothers would be angry.

Ophelia wrapped her arms around her waist and put one foot in front of the other. Hopefully she hadn't already missed the meal.


	8. Chapter 7

Damien bumped into Henri as he made his way to the private dining hall. The older stumbled back and gripped the tapestry nearest. Damien noticed his brother's scruffy jaw line and his matted hair.

"Get a little caught up in that cat nap of yours?" he teased.

Henri rolled his eyes and tucked in his green tunic. "It's just one of those days," he muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Why don't you go back to bed? I can tell them," Damien offered.

The elder prince shook his head. "While it's tempting, I haven't eaten anything yet. I need something in my stomach."

Damien nodded. "Alright. I wondered where you were at the council meeting this morning."

Henri barked a laugh. "I'm sure those old men were glad I wasn't there."

"They did ask, but I said you made previous arrangements."

Henri nodded. "Thank you. You're better with them anyway. They like you."

Damien chuckled. "No, they just don't notice when I disagree with them. Papa was there too."

The boys headed down the hall together. Henri asked if he missed anything important at the meeting. "No," Damien replied. "It's the same thing every time. Complaints, negotiations, you know how it is. Have you seen Melissa? I couldn't find her today."

The elder nodded. "She must have sensed my bed was warm. When I tried to get up earlier she snuck in and stayed the rest of the day. My apologies for stealing your cat."

Damien laughed as he held open the dining room door. "At least you had company."

The teal floor reflected up against Damien's tunic. He shut the door behind him and was surprised to find Camilla missing. Emmanuel was there with Belle, already seated at the slightly risen table. The chandelier was already lit, casting the small room in a healthy glow.

"Boys, there you are. Good to see you," Emmanuel said. Damien noticed he hadn't changed from his morning attire of a mint green tunic and tan trousers.

Belle pushed back her seat and stepped down the few carpeted stairs. "Henri, you should have stayed in bed. You look unwell."

Henri kissed both her cheeks. "Mama, I've slept all day. I need to eat."

"You know how you can get when you have one of these headaches," Belle chastised. "I'll have Josephine bring out tea."

The family made it to the lightly varnished table. The boys sat to the right of their parents. Damien glanced at the clock. "Where's Camilla?"

Belle poured herself a glass of ale, then one for Emmanuel. "Chip came and picked her up for a little adventure in the woods. Raoul went with them. They should be back soon," she said as she handed her husband his glass.

The door opened and Camilla ran over. Her pink dress was covered in grass stains and Damien could distinctively see a twig erupting from her caramel hair. Emmanuel chuckled. "It looks like you had a good time today ma petit."

Camilla nodded as she pulled out her chair. Damien heard the door creek and spotted Raoul lumber over. He settled by Ophelia's chair and waited.

"Chip took me through the woods to search for wood he could use for inventions. I saw a deer! It was great, can I go tomorrow Mama? Chip said he wants to show me the fish in the river."

Emmanuel picked the twig out of Camilla's hair. "I don't know about that, don't you have your studies to focus on?"

"Papa!" she whined.

"If you work on your Latin and history in the morning, you can go with Chip after lunch," Belle compromised.

The door opened again and Damien thought it would be Ophelia. Instead, Josephine came inside. She held a tray above her head and her hips swished as she came up beside Henri. She grabbed the kettle with one hand and poured him a generous amount of tea.

"This should help Monsieur Henri," she murmured.

Henri leaned his head against the back of his chair and smiled at the young woman. "My pounding head thanks you."

Josephine smiled as her cheeks lit up. She curtseyed to the family then disappeared. Damien grabbed a roll and dunked it in his soup. Belle glanced at him and shook her head.

"Mama, you know how long it could take Ophelia to get here. I've been stuck in the study all day," he pouted.

Belle chuckled. "Then perhaps you should get some fresh air after dinner. It wouldn't harm you to have a little adventure every now and then."

Henri smirked as he sipped his tea. "Ophelia has enough adventures for everyone."

Suddenly the door opened again, and this time it was the eldest princess. Damien watched her and wondered what was going on. With her head lowered and arm crossed, she wasn't her jolly self.

"How was your day Ophelia?" Belle asked.

The princess smoothed her striped teal skirt as she sat down next to Belle. She placed her basket on the floor and pulled her hair back in a ponytail but didn't reply. Raoul's head came to rest on her lap and she scratched the smooth fur.

"Ophelia, are you alright?" Emmanuel asked.

She looked up at her father and gave a quit nod. "Yes, just tired," she stammered.

The king nodded then began eating. Damien saw his parents' eyes flicker to their eldest daughter every few seconds, but neither asked.

Once the soup was done, servants filed in with the main course. As the roasted duck was set on the table, Emmanuel smiled at his children. "I have some good news to share. Your cousin has found a suitable match. The Baron of Lezines wrote for her hand and I accepted the arrangement."

Ophelia's fork fell from her hand and clattered against her plate. Damien squinted at her. The princess' face had paled and her eyes were wide like the tea cup beside her. She stared out the window.

"Ophelia?" Belle said.

The princess lowered her gaze and Damien heard the crinkle of paper. She pulled out a thin pamphlet with words scribbled all over. The prince watched her carefully unfold it and as she read it, her ears started to turn bright red.

Henri leaned over to Damien. "What's gotten in to her?" he whispered.

Damien shrugged. Ophelia pushed back her chair and went to her father's seat. She handed him the paper. "You need to read this, Papa," she said quietly. She sat back down and picked at her food.

The younger prince stared as Emmanuel read. The duck was forgotten on the table. A minute later, the king looked up and turned his attention to his daughter.

"Who gave you this?"

"A gypsy friend of mine. She witnessed the meeting and wanted to warn us. Papa you can't let her marry that man!"

Belle stared at her husband. "What's going on?" She glanced at Ophelia who looked like she was going to be sick. "Emmanuel?"

Damien's father leaned back in his chair and pressed a hand to his forehead. "It's Helena. It seems we have a problem."

"What do you mean, Papa?" Henri asked.

"She's trying to take the throne—by force," Ophelia blurted. "And that—that man she's going to marry, he's one of the supporters. I read that letter on the way over here. He _wrote_ it!" Tears started to leek from her eyes.

Belle reached across the table and squeezed her daughter's hand. "Hush now dear, I'm sure-"

"It's not a mistake Belle," Emmanuel cut in. "I've had two dukes report the same thing. The North is looking for a fight, and at this point I can't stop it."

Damien looked from one end of the table then the other. "Would someone please explain what's going on?"

"Papa?" Camilla said as she slid from her seat. "Is everything going to be okay?"

Emmanuel picked her up and settled her on his lap. "Yes ma petit, I will make sure it is."

"Papa, please! Tell us what is going on!" Damien exclaimed. Henri clutched his forehead.

Belle narrowed her eyes. "Damien, please, your brother"

Damien blushed. "I'm sorry, I just—what is going on? What is Helena doing?"

"Her supporters in the north are creating an army to come and toss me from the throne. They want her in my place, sooner rather than later," Emmanuel explained softly.

"But where would we go?" Camilla asked.

"We're not going anywhere, little one. She won't get the throne," the king said.

"How come this wasn't mentioned in the meeting this morning?" Damien asked. He kept a tight grip on the arm of his chair. His knuckles had started turning white and a pounding in his head became louder with each second his father didn't answer.

"Because I asked it not to be. I have only known for a week and before now I had no proof besides hearsay. And now-"

"Now you have proof, so we need to do something about it," Henri cut in.

Emmanuel nodded. "That we do."

"We should assemble an army and attack first. Capture the leaders, imprison the supporters, and make sure something like this isn't tried again," Damien suggested.

"What about Helena? She's a threat so long as she's able to roam freely," said Ophelia.

Damien leaned back against the chair and folded his hands over his belly. "We send knights there to make sure no one and nothing enters or leaves that manor of hers. She can't marry the baron."

Emmanuel nodded. "All good ideas. I shall assemble the men tomorrow."

"Papa, let me. I would like to take the lead on this endeavour, if I may. I think it would be best if you stayed in the castle where it's safe. If anything happened to you her cause would only grow stronger," said Damien.

The king stared at his son for a moment. He started to nod. "Alright. But we keep this contained. Do not speak of this outside of the family. We don't need Helena knowing our every move."

Henri frowned. "While I think it is a good idea for you to stay here Papa, I'm not sure Damien should lead. I have more experience in the field and with the knights. I know the countryside better. It would be better if I was in charge."

Damien glared at his brother. "Are you honestly saying you'd make a better leader? I've always been stronger when it comes to strategy. You just go in sword swinging and hope for the best! That's not how this battle is going to be won! And need I remind you I came up with the idea in the first place? You may have the brawn but I have the brains."

As the boys' argument grew louder, the king's temper grew shorter. "That's enough!" he shouted, the remnants of his beastly growl showing. The boys' mouths clamped shut and they stared at their father.

"Since it is obvious both of you have qualities that would advance our cause, both of you will lead the soldiers. Both of you will make sure this uprising is crushed and both of you will work together and come home safe, understood?"

The boys nodded and gave a "yes Papa". Emmanuel nodded. "Good. Now eat, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

Camilla wouldn't move from her papa's seat. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Ophelia handed Raoul her duck leg. "Neither am I."

Damien was saddened to find he wasn't hungry either. Henri did eat a little, but only because his earlier hunger was too large to ignore. The servants were brought in and told this dinner was now theirs. "It seems we've lost our appetites," Belle explained with a strained smile.

As the children filed out, Damien last in line, he caught his parents talking off to the side.

"I wish you hadn't done that," Belle whispered.

"What was I supposed to do? You saw how they were. If I chose one over the other, we would never hear the end of it."

"But now we could lose them both. My sons-" Belle shook her head, her eyes shutting tightly.

Emmanuel laced his arms around her waist. "Our sons will make it home safe. I promise."

Damien turned on his heel and followed the rest of them out of the room. He expected Henri to go back to his room, but with a tea cup in hand he led the way to the library. Ophelia held Camilla's hand with the one that wasn't holding her basket of books as the little girl stroked Raoul's fur. The young prince couldn't think of anything else to do, so he followed his siblings' lead.

The grand library doors opened, revealing the teal room. The green curtains were left open, showing off the windows that nearly touched the ceiling. The banisters that curled up to the second level of the library were freshly polished. Damien inhaled a scent of lemon in the room. The lion statues on the second level followed the children as the ventured towards the roaring fireplace. The family crest hung above a picture of the castle, saved from the days when this place was still locked in its curse. Damien folded his arms. This place still felt like it held something evil, or perhaps that was just the lingering presence of Helena. He still couldn't believe this was happening.

Fraser's mewing caught Damien's attention. The cat raced across the marble flooring, chasing after a mouse. The prince spotted Melissa lounging in front of the fire on a blanket. He wondered what servant had forgotten it while tidying up the frequently used room.

Ophelia let go of Camilla's hand and took the first staircase up to the second floor. Damien watched his sister slink up the winding stairs then settle on the balcony with her back to the others. He thought of bringing her a blanket, but didn't move.

Camilla wandered to her shelf and pulled out the biggest book she could find. The bound parchment was up to her waist and as it made a soft thump against the tile, he tried to remember what was inside that one. The book had been passed down from the twins to Ophelia and still resided with the youngest. She spread out by the fireplace with Melissa and followed her sister's lead.

Damien leaned a hand against the nearest table and stared at the shelves that went straight to the ceiling. He wondered what book he should pick up.

"About what I said at dinner, I'm sorry. I just didn't want you going alone."

"Because I can't handle it?" Damien asked.

Henri shook his head. "Because I couldn't. If I went alone, things would go badly. If you went, things might not work out either. We need each other, especially if we're going to do this the right way."

Damien sighed. "You make a fair point."

"So you're not mad?"

The younger shrugged. "Not entirely."

Henri smirked and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get started tomorrow then. Hopefully the headache will have passed." He turned to where Ophelia was hiding. "Ophelia, what's the name of your gypsy friend?"

"Martha," the girl replied.

Damien nodded. "And where can we find her?"

"I'll take you to her tomorrow."

"Thank you," said Henri.

The boys waited for her to say something else, but she kept quiet. Henri turned to his brother. "I don't think it's just the letter that's bothering her."

"Neither do I, but we'd best leave it alone. There are other things to worry about." The princes were to the fire place, picking up a book or two along the way, and settled down on the furniture. Henri spread out on the light green couch while Damien took up residency on the red chair. Fraser continued to run around the room exploring.

"What's going to happen to us?" Camilla asked from her place on the floor.

"Just what Papa said, nothing will happen. We'll be safe," Damien stated.

Henri agreed. "And you will be too," he said then took a sip of his tea. "We'll make sure of it."


	9. Chapter 8

Books save lives. That was the first thing Belle taught all her children. When Ophelia was two and her tantrums started to get more aggressive, her mother would hand her a book and carry her to her room where she would stay, throwing a fit until she exhausted herself. The book would be there on her bed and she would crawl under the sheets and stare at the pictures until she fell asleep. Ophelia was never sure when her mother slipped inside, but whenever Ophelia's eyes opened Belle was there asking her if she was okay now. Ophelia usually said yes and then the two would go to the kitchen for cookies.

When the princess was older, Belle told her how, if she hadn't had books, she never would have made it through the period of mourning over her mother's death.

"Books were always there. Even if Papa was just in the basement inventing or driving the carriage, I would find more comfort in a book than with people. Until I met your father at least."

She later learned about her mother's dreams of travel and how once again, books were there. Ophelia preferred experiencing adventures, but she understood in her mother's position that was impossible.

So Ophelia, as well as her brothers and sister, grew up with books acting as a cushion to fall on. She didn't think she would need books as desperately as her mother had, but when she told her father about the letter and her brothers decided it was their job to take care of the matter, her stomach twisted and she couldn't think of anywhere else to go but the library. Her section of books by one of the marble lion statues was packed full and she could have stayed up all night reading. She almost did.

As it grew closer to midnight she heard feet on the steps nearby. She looked over and saw Damien carrying a blanket.

"I figured you would need this. The floor isn't always comfortable."

She reached out her hand and took the soft pink material, wrapping it around her shoulders. "Thank you."

Damien nodded and leaned against the banister. "What are you reading?"

Ophelia glanced at the text. "I don't even know," she murmured.

Damien chuckled. They stared at each other, the fire crackling in the background. "It's going to be alright, you know. This isn't your fault," he said.

The princess leaned her head back against the railing. "I know."

"If anything, you've saved us. Imagine if you didn't give us that letter, imagine-"

"I don't want to! I don't want to imagine anything. I never wanted any of this to happen. Things were good, things were-" she shook her head. "I didn't think she would actually do this," Ophelia whispered.

"I doubt she's really the one doing it. From the sounds of it, those lords in the north are the ones behind it. It won't take long to take care of them though. We'll be back in a month or two, I'm sure of it."

Ophelia sighed and gave a nod. "Alright. Are you going to bed?"

Damien nodded. "I'll take Camilla back to her room first. Do you need anything before I go?"

Ophelia shook her head. She watched her brother descend the stairs then turned back to her books. The marble lion stared at her and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She opened the book and started from the beginning. Maybe the plot would come back to her.

Belle exhaled and shook her head. "I still don't like this Emmanuel," she whispered. Ophelia watched her father's arm wrap around his wife's waist.

"Things will be fine," he replied. The soldiers continued to file out of the castle behind the princes. An hour before, a separate party of knights went off to Helena's manor to make sure she didn't leave. Her husband-to-be could be there, and the thought of a confrontation caused Ophelia to shudder. At least her brothers would be far from that place.

Camilla came up beside her sister and took her hand. "Can we go play in the garden?"

Ophelia fiddled with the pocket on her bright blue skirt. The grey corset started to dig into her ribs. She shook her head. "I'm going to the village, on my own. Perhaps Josephine will play with you," she suggested.

Camilla pouted but before she could start to whine Emmanuel scooped her up. "Come ma petit, let's see if we can take over the kitchen to make cookies."

The girl squealed and the two set off. "Are you coming Belle?"

The woman shook her head. "I have some business to take care of first." The king left and Belle turned to her eldest daughter. "Are you going to be alright dear?"

Ophelia nodded, folding her arms as the sleeves on her navy blouse rode up her arms. Belle kissed her cheek. "I'll be in your father's study if you need anything." She then left the courtyard. The last of the soldiers exited, leaving the echo of horse hooves pounding against the princess' skull. She felt Raoul's head brush against her knee, sending her feet into a sprint. Raoul kept pace as she headed to the village.

By the time she got there, everyone knew what was going on. It was hard not to, since most of the men able to fight had gone. She received the stares readily from the villagers and took the comfort and encouragement they offered to her. She considered seeing Nan, but she remembered the girl had recently started working for yet another family during the day.

Her feet directed her to Sophia's manor instead. She could hear the commotion in the back as the mill was being worked by Sophia's father and mother. The princess took a deep breath and knocked. Sophia answered, her eyes stained red. She had a tissue sticking out of her pink sleeve and while she was dressed, she looked as if she just rolled out of bed.

"Come in, come in. Misery loves company," the lady insisted.

Ophelia shut the door behind her. Raoul trotted to the kitchen and Ophelia watched Sophia pour them some tea. "It's just—I can't believe it's happened, you know? My father hasn't spoken since the letter came, all my sister-in-law has done since Elliot left is cry along with the babies. Mother hasn't stopped keeping her hands busy. She stayed up until dawn this morning. It's a miracle the house isn't sparkling," she briefly chuckled. Sophia looked over at the princess. "I'm sorry. It must be hard on you too."

Ophelia just nodded. "I saw Chris this morning. He looked well."

Sophia flinched. "Please don't mention him. I had to say goodbye yesterday and it was just awful. His father was drunk and we barely got any time to," her cheeks flushed, "say goodbye."

The princess grinned. "Are you two sweethearts now?"

Sophia headed to the kitchen table and handed her friend her tea. "I did tell him that, when he came home, I would be here waiting and . . . I wouldn't oppose the offer of becoming his wife."

Ophelia smiled. "Then I will pray he comes home safe."

Sophia took a sip. "Me too." She pulled out her chair and ran a hand through her hair. "At least the babies are asleep. Did you know about Nan's new job?"

Ophelia nodded. "She's doing well for herself."

"Yes, it's gotten Mama talking. She wants me to start helping with the bread runs. If you have time, would you like to accompany me?"

The princess shrugged. "Perhaps. Did Colene mention anything about Jamie going with my brothers? I didn't see him there this morning."

Sophia snorted. "Didn't you know? The lucky tramp managed to get out of it. His step-father claimed if he went with him who would run the inn? Whoever was in charge accepted it I suppose. He's one of the few men left to guard the village."

"My brothers left behind about forty men to guard the surrounding area. You'll be safe," Ophelia said. She wondered where Jamie was.

Sophia nodded. "I'm not worried about me. It's my brothers and Chris. I don't know what any of us will do if Elliot and Brandon don't come home," she sighed.

Ophelia reached over the table and squeezed the girl's hand. After they shared their tea and a brief lunch, Raoul whimpered. "I guess he knows when it's time to leave," she chuckled.

"It's for the best, the babies will be awake soon then their mother has to go help my parents, leaving me to babysit." She got up and pulled her hair back in a bun. "Could you check up on Colene for me? Her papa left with your brothers and I have a feeling her mother is on a rampage."

"Of course. I was just thinking about it."

"Thank you."

Ophelia left the house just as a chorus of cries reached her ears. Raoul whined and the princess smirked. She rubbed his head. "Don't worry boy, you don't have to put up with screaming babies."

She was surprised to see Colene's house deserted. The stillness in the air unsettled her and instead of knocking, she headed towards the village. Perhaps Jamie would be around to share a drink with.

By the time Ophelia got back into the thick of the village, she couldn't recall why she came back. She thought of her bed, the soft mattress ready to cushion her, and she considered turning around. Then, up ahead, she heard Colene's breathless laugh. Ophelia weaved her way through the crowd to get to her friend and by the time she got there, she realized where exactly she was.

Outside of Jamie's inn, Colene leaned against the railing. Jamie was there and the princess guessed there couldn't be more than an inch separating them. His head ducked down and he whispered something in Colene's ear. She laughed again, her hand falling towards the young man's arm where she squeezed the muscle. Ophelia's stomach clenched and she felt the tea rising up her throat. She looked away, but one eye betrayed her and looked back. Jamie had that look in his eye, the one he always got before he leaned down and tried to steal a kiss from the princess. Ophelia turned on her heel and nearly collided with one of the farmers' wives.

She should have seen this coming. Like father, like son. Suddenly she understood why Fifi left the castle. Men like Jamie and his father were fun, but their attention span was limited. Their eyes had a wandering disease and while Ophelia believed he would never hurt the princess the same way Lumiere did to Fifi, she began to wonder if her naivety blocked out Jamie's true nature. She wondered what Fifi's husband was like. She never spent much time with the inn keeper to get an understanding of his personality. As she tried to get as far as possible from Jamie, her mind wandered to the older woman.

Fifi knew the value of labour. She worked the once porcelain hands until they were red and raw then brandished them with boiling water in the inn's kitchen. Ophelia had watched her enough to know the work was never done.

Their bedroom, what did it look like? Lace curtains, the princess was sure those were hanging somewhere. Perhaps the inn keeper's pants hung on a chair, maybe his boots were hiding under the bed, still caked in mud. He probably didn't shave often, and when he did Fifi wasn't sure what to do with his clean skin. She likely was used to his scruffy face burrowing against her neck.

Ophelia pictured the two in bed, talking about their inn. The walls needed a new coat of paint. New dishes would be nice, but those were expensive and the inn business wasn't steady. Fifi wanted to decorate the rooms but again, where would they get the money? Maybe she cried because when she was at the castle, money was never a problem. Maybe she worried what she was leaving her son. Maybe her husband had fallen asleep by then, or did he wake up and hold her, kissing the tears from beneath her puffy lids?

Her husband would be steady, strong, dependable, all the things Lumiere had not been. Her husband likely did not day dream nor did his eye wander to whatever women he may see at his weekly visit to the tavern. Fifi would never have to worry about him running around though. But the passion, was it there? Did she ever wish the sturdy man who shared her bed would turn into the lean courtier she once loved?

"You!" someone shouted.

Ophelia blinked and tried to find out where the noise was coming from. She saw Lefou stumble over, his portly frame swaying as he tried to block the princess' path. Raoul leaned against Ophelia's knees and let out a low growl.

"This—this is _your_ fault," the man slurred. "My son—my son will die and, and you don't care!"

The princess raised an eyebrow. "Monsieur Lefou, I don't know what you mean. Your son is fine, he will be fine."

"No he won't! He'll die the same way my best friend did—at the hands of your family! You're _cursed_ , all of you! Bewitched! Killers! We're not safe until that beast's head hangs on the tavern's mantle!" Lefou shouted, his cries startling everyone nearby.

Ophelia's cheeks lit up as the villagers began to stare. "Monsieur Lefou, you should go to bed. You're not well."

"Oh—don't worry about me, I'll be _fine_. I'm going to watch this village, this—country burn along with your father, the beast!"

A few men came over and grabbed Lefou's arms. "What you speak of is treason! Princess, we apologize for him. He does not know what he says," one man explained.

"I know what I'm saying! Gaston would never have let my son go to war—he wouldn't-" the man started to cry.

"What would you like us to do with him?" another man asked.

Ophelia took a deep breath. "Just get him home, into bed. Make sure someone checks on him tomorrow to make sure he's still breathing."

The men bowed then carried Lefou off. The villagers lingered, watching the princess' shoulders sage. Raoul licked her hand but she barely felt the action. Tears had started to blur her vision and without warning she sped off towards the woods. Raoul kept pace and his barks caught up with her. The tears streamed down her cheek and blew off her rosy skin onto the leaves she brushed aside. The princess kept seeing images of Jamie with Lefou's words beating against her.

 _He's right, all you wanted was to do the right thing but now the men are fighting and everyone could lose so much._ A sob escaped her throat, echoing Raoul's bark. She didn't know where she was running, but the thought of getting lost suddenly sounded appealing.


	10. Chapter 9

Damien stared at the horizon, squinting as the late afternoon sunlight burned his gaze. He felt the heavy metal plates on his shoulder shift, trying to even out the weight they had been carrying since dawn. He sighed and thought of his family back at home. He wondered if they missed him and his brother yet. His stomach grumbled. He would have loved one of Emmanuel's cookies right then.

Henri's horse trotted beside his brother's. "When should we set up camp?" the elder asked.

"Not until we're out of this field. I don't like the idea of being ambushed," Damien replied.

Henri nodded. "Good idea. How long will that take?"

Damien looked around the expanse of tall grass and wildflowers. He hadn't been this far from the castle before. The area was foreign to him, at least in this direction. The trek to the northern part of the country was filled with mountains and shaky terrain. Damien wasn't looking forward to it.

He reached into the space between his chest plate and pulled out the map he kept there. Henri, with a curl of hazel hair falling past his brow, looked over at the parchment. "Doesn't look like we'll be in it much longer." He turned back to the men. "The soldiers are getting restless."

Damien smirked. "No doubt they are eager to get started."

"I can't say I blame them. All this waiting does nothing for the nerves."

The younger prince agreed. "You'd best get back there and keep their spirits up then. I am not much of a morale booster," he chuckled.

Henri clapped an armoured hand on his brother's shoulder. "No, but you are a tactical man, and that's what we need right now." He turned his black steed towards the men and trotted off to his previous location in the throng of the soldiers.

Damien glanced at the map again. Their first village that held at least one troublesome lord was about a day's journey. He planned to reach it early tomorrow morning, locate the lord and his supporters then be gone from the area. He wanted to salvage as much of the village as possible, but when he and Henri were planning, they agreed that if the villagers were uncooperative, there would be no choice but to discipline them accordingly. In his mind though, Damien was prepared to give the people the benefit of the doubt. If worse came to worse, he would appoint one of the soldiers to stay behind and act in the lord's place until a suitable replacement could be found. He much preferred that then slaughtering innocent lives.

The prince stuffed the map back between his armour and focused on the path ahead. He scanned the grassy terrain as the men conversed around him. He knew Chip was somewhere in there and wondered what the older gentleman was talking about with his comrades.

A horse whinnied. At first, that didn't seem out of the ordinary, but when it happened again, this time with the horse sounding much further up ahead than any of Damien's men were, he stopped his horse. He raised a hand and the others slowed behind him. He looked around for the sign of the stallion but didn't see it. A minute later, he heard a few horses whinny. Henri walked up beside his horse.

"What is it?"

Damien placed a finger over his lips and drew his sword. Again, a horse cried out and this time he saw it crest a nearby hill with a rider in armour on its back. The prince looked behind him and motioned for the men to follow. As they approached, more horses with their riders appeared behind their leader. He didn't recognize the crest on the leader's shield and his stomach twisted. Could they be the rebels?

"State your business!" he shouted, but the leader didn't reply. The other group of soldiers kept marching, and Damien noticed a sword at the leader's side.

He raised his sword and his soldiers did the same. "Halt!"

The leader listened, causing Damien to pull his horse to a stop. He leapt off the animal and marched over with half a dozen men to surround the small band of possible rebels.

"Get off the horse," the prince demanded.

Up close, Damien noticed the leader was small. Damien guessed he couldn't be taller than the prince's upper chest. The man's helmet was still on, unsettling the prince. When the leader didn't move, the prince motioned for two of his men to lift the young man off the saddle. The leader struggled and his men tried to help him but Damien's kept them at bay until the leader was kneeling before the prince.

"State your business here," Damien said quietly. The leader didn't move. The prince sighed. "Take off the helmet." When the leader didn't listen, the prince grew impatient and took it off himself. The men around him gasped. A young woman with tanned flesh and curly, black hair stared up at the prince.

"You're-"

"She's a woman!" Chris whispered. The villager stared at the prince. "What do we do with her?"

Damien bent on one knee before the armoured woman. She avoided his gaze, glancing over her shoulder to her men. She said something to them and Damien placed a finger under her chin, making her look back at him. "What is your business in these parts milady?"

The nameless woman scowled at the prince, her sapphire eyes holding his stare. "I am looking for Prince Damien and Prince Henri's group of soldiers. My men and I are here to help them."

The prince smirked. "And how would you help them?"

"My men are trained for battle and like my father before me I am the leader of an entire village of warriors. We know the land better than the princes could," she stated without hesitation.

Henri came up behind his brother and chuckled. "She certainly has us beat, doesn't she Damien?"

The woman's eyes widened. "You—are the princes?"

"Indeed we are. I'd say the pleasure is yours, but I must say, your pedigree is impressive," Henri said.

The woman blushed. "What is your name?" asked Damien.

"Magdalene of Curemonte, sires," she said with a bowed head.

Damien rose up. "Well Magdalene of Curemonte, welcome to our group of soldiers. Are you prepared to fight alongside us against Princess Helena?"

She bobbed her head. "Yes sires, of course."

Damien nodded. "Good, then get back on your horse and follow us. We'll set up camp as soon as we're out of these fields.

Magdalene got up and pointed to the direction she came in. "There is a forest four miles in that direction. It would make a safe place from rebels."

Henri grinned. "I'm beginning to like this partnership already."

The new additions to the group intermingled with the thousands of other men and the group went off together for the forest. As they went along, Damien spotted Henri and Magdalene from the corner of his eye. The prince was telling one of his famous stories, likely the one about the bear, but Magdalene didn't seem impressed. Damien smirked and kept his head focused forward.

"Sire," Chris said as his horse weaved its way to the front. "Sire, I've been thinking."

The prince sighed at the younger gentleman. "What is it soldier?"

"I've talked with some of the men, and I don't know if we should trust what their leader says," he whispered. "I don't think they are who they say they are."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I just think it's strange they let a woman lead them. It doesn't seem like anything a leader of a village would let happen."

Damien chuckled. "You obviously don't know Sir Ambroise then."

Chris raised a dark eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Sir Ambroise is Magdalene's father. He had two young boys after Magdalene, but from what I picked up during gossip hour, she has always held the most promise as a warrior. Apparently the rumours are true," he said, glancing at the armoured woman. "Her village didn't send warriors when we sent a letter to them, but I should have guessed they would rather surprise us. Makes for a grand entrance."

Chris nodded. "Alright, but how can we be sure this really is her? Have you met her before?"

"Only when we were young," Damien explained, "and I was just a boy then. Do you honestly doubt this is her? What other woman would wear armour with such pride?"

"Your sister perhaps?"

Damien laughed. "Ophelia certainly would, but thank goodness that isn't her."

Chris sighed. "I'll still keep my eye on them."

"Don't strain yourself. This will be a long journey."

Chris agreed then went back to where his friends were lurking in the crowd. Damien looked behind him at Magdalene. She had changed a lot since her childhood, but Damien knew it was her. He remembered her self-assured strides and the sharpness of her gaze. He caught her smiling at the moment. Perhaps Henri had found a better story to tell.

By the time the group made camp, it was dusk. Tents were pitched, fires started, and food hunted down in spurts. The prince leaned against the table he had constructed and stared at the maps. They were on schedule still, thank goodness, but they would have to rise early to make it to the village in time to grab the lord. He didn't like to think about what he would have to do to those traitors, but the thought of Helena winning was worse than anything he could do to the men.

The large tent glowed from the light of a nearby fire pit. His cot was off to the side, against the back wall. Henri's was to the right of the small table and their bags were clustered in the left corner. He glanced at the bed then sighed. He wasn't tired enough yet. Since the plan started to be made he hadn't been able to crawl into bed until it was almost impossible to keep his eyes open.

How many men would he lose during this battle? How many families would be ruined because of this need for control? Damien shook his head. He didn't want to think about it anymore.

The tent flap opened. "Henri?" Damien asked.

Chip shook his head. "No, your brother is off hunting with Magdalene and a few others. Hopefully they bring down something bigger than a rabbit."

Damien chuckled. "If I remember Magdalene's skill, she should be able to get something decent."

Chip came over to the younger and stared at the map. "You're going to give yourself a headache if you keep looking at that thing."

The prince shrugged. "What else is there to do?"

"You could come sit by the fire. One of the men made some stew and it hasn't killed anyone yet."

Damien smirked. "How reassuring."

Chip smiled. "Come on, it will be fun. The one good thing about war is it forces men to bond. We wouldn't do it willingly anywhere else."

"True," he sighed. "Do you think all will go well?"

"With you and Henri leading us? Of course! How could it not?"

Damien nodded. "Thank you for your confidence in me, I can't say I feel the same most of the time."

Chip placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll make it out of here alive. Helena might have some northern lords, but we have an army and we're willing to protect the people. She can't win."

"Did you think it would come to this when we last saw her?"

"Honestly? I might have. She seemed—different back then. Colder than usual. I thought she could just use a friend, but it goes deeper than that I think."

Damien agreed. "If her father were alive I can't say things would be much different though."

Chip nodded. "From what I remember of him, he wasn't a kind fellow. The kingdom would be in turmoil over his ruling."

"Papa says he was better than Grandpa, but I have a hard time believing it."

"Well, he's not around anymore, so at least we can be grateful for that. Now come on, we have to get some food in you."

When the men exited the tent, the nearest fire pit of soldiers stood to bow. Damien raised his hand. "Please, none of that. I may be your commander but I only need you to follow my orders, not break your backs bowing every time I walk by."

The men chuckled and sat back down. One of the boys handed the prince a bowl and Chip sat beside him with a mug of ale. "At least we brought enough drink to last us," Chip chuckled.

Damien took a few sips of the soup. "Who's on patrol?"

"Chris' group," one of the soldiers replied. "He'll switch off with my group at ten."

Damien nodded. One of the fire pit groups started singing a traditional folk song. Soon the other groups joined in and their voices rose into the air, cloaking the forest with their tunes. For a moment, Damien forgot he was in armour. For one short night, he was merely a man in the company of friends sharing an evening of entertainment.

The music died away and some men turned in for the night, at least until they were up for patrol duty. Damien and Chip along with many other soldiers stayed by the fires, nursing them as well as their drinks. Henri and Magdalene returned with enough meat to fill the men's bellies and it was cooked as quickly as any of them could stand it. As Damien munched away, he stared at his brother. The prince's cheeks were lit up and the young woman glanced at him every few seconds.

Chip leaned over and smirked. "I wonder if all they did was hunt."

Damien shoved him lightly. "Be quiet," he chuckled. He tipped his head back and finished his ale. The stars shone down on him and he sighed. So far, so good.


	11. Chapter 10

"Well this is just great," Ophelia muttered, avoiding a low-hanging branch. "Raoul, how did you let us get lost?"

The dog whined. Ophelia sighed and squinted, trying to see in the growing darkness. "No, you're right it's not your fault." She rubbed his head. "Can't you smell us home though? We can't be that far from the castle."

Raoul snorted and gave his body a shake. He turned around and sniffed the ground but as she watched, nothing came of his efforts. She ran a hand through her hair. "Why does this day keep getting worse?" she whispered.

The princess stepped over a bush and continued on the direction she thought to be home. It had been hours since she saw a recognizable figure to suggest the castle was nearby. She wondered if her parents had sent out a search party already.

In the distance, a lone wolf howled. Raoul's ears pricked up and he pressed against Ophelia's legs, directing her more to the right. She pulled her skirts closer to her skin, avoiding the bramble bushes. The wolf howled again, but it was further away. Ophelia sighed. At least that was one less thing to worry about.

"You know who I blame for all this Raoul? Jamie. If he had been a decent enough fellow and keep his flirtations inside the inn, none of this would have happened."

She glanced at the dog. He stared at her, head tilted to the side, and she frowned. "Fine, don't believe me. But don't you dare think I was jealous, because I wasn't. I'm not."

Raoul trotted ahead and Ophelia followed. Her silent friend was right, though. Jamie wasn't at fault. Ophelia was the one who ran off and got herself lost. She had been stupid enough to think it was a smart idea. She saw an image of Colene and Jamie in her mind and it nearly caused her to jump. She shook her head.

"I know what you're thinking. I should be happy for Colene. She's the right person for Jamie. I should want what's best for them," she said to Raoul. The dog didn't seem to be listening. She huffed. "It's rude to ignore people you know."

The evergreens swayed above them. Oak branches creaked along with the wind and Ophelia looked around as the breeze picked up. She wondered if bears were rummaging around this late. Henri's grand tale of how he escaped from one when he was young stuck in her mind. How had he done it? Play dead? She swallowed a lump in her throat. Hopefully she wouldn't have to use that trick.

"Is it wrong of me to want to go back, Raoul? To erase my mistakes and start over?" The dog did not reply. Ophelia smirked. "I don't know why I'm asking you. You can't talk. Although I think you understand a lot more than you let on."

The dog barked. She scratched behind his ear and stepped over a fallen log. Suddenly, she picked up the faint whinny of a horse. Ophelia stopped walking and listened. She heard it again, this time stronger. The wild herds stayed clear of the woods, mainly inhabiting the meadows. Could one have gotten left behind during a run? The princess followed the cries until she came to a tiny clearing, barely big enough for a person to fit in, let alone a horse eighteen hands high.

To the right of the princess stood the horse, its moon-like fur reflecting back at her. She saw its reins tangled in the spindly branches of a nearby tree. Its blonde mane flew back and forth and the creature continued to cry out, stomping its hooves repeatedly.

Ophelia started walking towards the horse. "Easy now, easy," she cooed. "Relax, you're only making it worse." The animal whipped its head toward her voice and as she was about to take another step, she heard a groan emitting from the ground. She looked down and gasped.

The outline of a man lay beside her in the darkness. He was on his stomach, legs spread and arms crooked against the grassy floor. She looked at the horse who still trembled nearby then at the man. He hadn't made any noise again, but his appearance unsettled her. She knelt down beside where she thought his head would be and tilted it to the side. From the moonlight, she made out the dark skin that hid beneath his goatee. His bushy eyebrows didn't move a muscle, but the wind blew his dark ponytail.

Her hand hovered over his cheek, her fingertips almost touching the surface when Raoul barked. The dog stood by the man's leg and she noticed how awkward it was placed. She crawled towards it and when she placed a hand on the appendage, she cringed. She could feel the bone through the skin trying to poke out. When she pulled her hand off the ground, it was sticky with something. She smelt iron and wiped the liquid on her skirt.

"What happened to you sir?" she whispered. Raoul sniffed the man then trotted to the horse who snorted at the dog.

Ophelia glanced at the man then got up. She made quick work of untangling the reins. "There now, it's alright," she sighed. "I think I know what happened. You got scared by that wolf, didn't you?" The horse snorted. She stroked its nose. "And you threw your owner off by accident and now he's here, isn't that right? Well, we'll fix that, won't we?" She let go of the reins and the animal stayed put. She wandered back to the unconscious man and stood over him.

"Now I know this is going to be painful, but we have to get you back on that horse. I'll try not to drop you," she said. As expected, the man said nothing. Ophelia bent down and wrapped her arms around his upper torso. Once he was almost standing, she placed his arm over her shoulder then lifted him off the ground. The princess stood to her full height and cradled the man's legs against her, trying not to further injure his left leg.

The horse hadn't moved since she last left it. Ophelia walked over to it and hoisted the man onto the saddle, stomach first. He landed with a thud, but for the most part he seemed alright. He hadn't woken up at least.

'He'll be in an awful lot of pain when he does.' She looked around them, wondering where to go now. Her hand curled around the reins and she gave them a tug.

"Home," she commanded. The horse snorted and led the princess out of the dense clearing. Raoul kept up, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Ophelia wasn't sure how long it took, but she started to see a faint glow up ahead. The horse continued until it broke through the brush, taking Ophelia with it. She stumbled forward and came face to face with the mystery manor from weeks before. A few candles shone through the windows, but besides that it looked as it had months ago. She glanced at the man hanging off the saddle.

"So you're the mystery owner," she muttered. The horse kept walking towards the back of the manor towards the stable. The door to the small shack was left open and it appeared fully stocked with hay. The creature ducked its head and began eating away before Ophelia had a chance to take off its reins. She sighed and shook her head.

"I'll take care of you later then. I need to get him inside." She maneuvered the man off the saddle and back onto her back. "Come on Raoul," she said, "don't forget to close the door." The dog leaned back against it until the lock clicked shut. He then followed Ophelia through the back door.

The first thing she smelt was smoke. The fire in the wide kitchen was going and a pot of something had been left to boil on the stove. The princess stared at the big, metal thing and wondered where the mystery man dug that clunker from. His counter, which spread across the south wall, was cluttered with pots, pans, plates, cups, cutlery, bags of flour, and sprigs of parsley, a container of cinnamon, a half-eaten pie, and half a dozen other scraps she couldn't decipher. She wondered if he had a garden hiding near the stables.

From the beams hung extra pots, baskets, and clusters of herbs that needed drying. His table was small and in the middle of the room with only one chair. She nearly bumped into the varnished piece of wood on her way to the exit. She passed by a free standing cupboard and boxes filled with trinkets Ophelia didn't think belonged in a kitchen. She nearly missed the ladder leaning against one of the walls.

She guessed he housed himself on the second level, and as he was beginning to grow heavy against her spine, she made a promise not to explore the main level. She poked her head through every door on the second level but came up with nothing that looked like a bedroom. The princess stared at the heavy-set stairs and groaned.

"You need to lose a few pounds sir," she grunted as she carried him up the last few steps. When she reached the top, she was glad to see there was only one door on the whole level. At least that took the mystery out of it. She flung open the door and shivered.

Straight ahead of her laid a bay window with its panels open. The mint cushions had dried leaves on them. The white, thin curtains fluttered in the moonlight while the heavy, red ones pressed against the darkly panelled wall.

The fire place was also lit here, as well as a candelabra sitting on a bureau. She wondered what lay inside, but her eyes caught sight of many empty frames lingering near the cherry wood bureau. Some were painted, some needed sanding. One was even missing a side. Red curtains framed the wall until met with a large closet that reached the ceiling. The princess stared at the intricate carvings on the doors and tried to decipher their meaning.

To her right she saw another dresser, this one with its drawers locked tight. She found it strange there wasn't a mirror inside the bedroom, but stranger still the sets of pulleys running from the ground up to the ceiling. The princess saw stained glass windows hiding up there, but she couldn't see what else. She noticed there appeared to be a walkway hiding up there and she grabbed hold of the nearest pulley with one arm but released it. No, not yet. She had to get the man into bed first.

The four poster bed appeared to be carved by the same person who did the closet. There was an overwhelming amount of pillows of various colours on the bed and the blankets were thrown everywhere. She kicked them aside then settled the man on the soft mattress. She heard him sigh, but wasn't sure if he was waking. She waited a moment.

 _He really is handsome_ , she thought. She deciphered the colour of his hair, like a raven's feather. Her eyes gazed upon his tattered pants and the crinkled, brown tunic. In the light she noticed old scars hiding along his neck and one on his cheek. She wondered if any others hid under his clothes. She shook her head, cheeks alight and spotted dried blood on his arm. The ugly mark twinkled up at her and she started to look for a needle.

"Stay here Raoul. Bark if he wakes up." The dog settled by the bed and leaned his head against the mattress, watching the man.

Luck prevailed on her first attempt. The kitchen, while messy, did in fact house what she needed. While there, she mixed a poultice and grabbed a roll of fabric that would do to bind his leg. When she finally trekked back up, Raoul had dozed off. She shook her head.

"What a fine watch dog you are," she teased. Her friend sighed and shifted so she could get to work. She found a stool and pulled it up beside his arm. As she got to work, she decided telling the stranger a story couldn't hurt.

"Although, I hate to repeat myself so if you wake up and don't know what's going on, I'm not going to start again," she stated, threading the needle. "Have you ever been in love before sir? It's a fine thing, isn't it? You can get so wrapped up in your own little world, it's a miracle anything lives outside you and your beloved. I imagine you are a daring fellow. Who else could live in these woods alone for God knows how long and only now get yourself almost killed?" she chuckled, halfway through stitching the wound.

"I could tell you lots of stories about him, but none of them would really do what we had justice. I should write a book, don't you think? My mother loves books. So do I, but I like adventures too. Maybe you've heard of some of them, if you ever go into the village that is. I'm not proud of most of them, but sometimes I just can't help myself, you know? I hope you do. It would be nice to have someone to talk to who understands. Sometimes . . . especially today . . . I just feel lonely," she whispered. She shook her head and finished the final stitch.

"I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be telling you a story and all I'm doing is giving you a headache, if you can have one while you're unconscious at least. Aren't you lucky I was wandering about this late? Your horse sure makes a lot of noise. Remind me to ask its name when you wake up." Ophelia moved down towards his leg and grabbed the bowl full of poultice. "I'm going to have to wrap your leg up pretty tight, so you can't move. Don't decide now is the time to wake up." The princess spread the mixture over the inflamed area then began wrapping his leg. By the time she was done, the fire started to go down.

Ophelia grabbed his covers and pulled them up to his chin. "Your clothes aren't too dirty, so I think we'll leave them on for now. I don't want to attempt to undress you," she winked. "I'll be back soon, don't go anywhere." She walked over to the fire, put in an extra log then left the room. Raoul slept on by the bedside.

As promised earlier, the princess went back to the stable and took care of the horse. In the process of cleaning the twigs from its fur she found out it was a boy and named him Camelot for the time being. Once the reins were off and Camelot had enough hay for the night, she locked the door then went back inside. She put another log on the kitchen fire as she walked by and wondered what she should do now.

 _He's not going to be up for a while. Perhaps a little exploration is in order_. She turned right out of the doorway and wandered down to the end of the hall. She heard an owl hooting behind the door and squinted. _What in the world?_ Ophelia opened the door and was greeted with various bird calls along with a faint smell of feces. She looked upward and her eyes widened.

Lining the walls was every type of bird known to the land, and even a few foreign ones she had only heard about it books. A great horned owl flapped its wings on one of the higher perches. She watched it spread its wings and fly out the open roof window. A few seconds later, a smaller, moon faced owl entered with a dead mouse in its talons. A loon cooed in a man-made pool of water to the princess' far right. She saw other water fowl frolicking there, or sleeping, depending on what species.

A black-necked grebe dozed in its nest while a great blue heron balanced on a tree branch. She wondered how the man managed to get a tree inside his home, but she had a feeling underestimating this man was the wrong thing to do. She wandered the room and found storks, spoonbills, a few swans, geese, ducks, hawks, eagles, falcons, grouse, quails, cranes, pheasants, partridges, sandpipers, terns, sand grouse, parrots, doves, the list went on until her head was spinning. She left as quietly as she came.

Ophelia's stomach grumbled and before going back to the man she made herself a cup of tea. She didn't want to attempt to make herself something, lest she disturb this man's chaos. When she crawled back up to his room, she caught the distinct scent of sweat. She wandered to the bed and gasped, almost dropping her cup. The young man's brow was dripping with salty water and his shirt was almost soaked. She pulled back the covers and doused the fire with her tea.

His head rolled to the side and she grimaced. "I'm such an idiot," she muttered. She worked on getting his shirt off and once the damp apparel was off, she ran back to the kitchen for a bucket of cold water and a rag. Raoul was waiting for her when she got back. Ophelia rolled up her sleeves and began dabbing his skin with the cloth.

"Don't you fret now, we'll have this fever broken in no time. I won't leave till it is," she whispered. His stomach jumped when the cold water touched it, but he didn't awaken. She heard the howl of a wolf come in through the window and closed her eyes.

Hopefully her parents would believe her if she ever got around to telling them about this particular adventure.


	12. Chapter 11

"Is this it?" asked Chris.

Damien nodded as he stared down the slopping hill at the village of Chaumont. From there, he could spot a few locals moving about the cobblestone streets. A dog barked. The wind carried over the scent of burning coal and sulphur.

"It doesn't look like much," Chip said. "Then again, we shouldn't complain. Perhaps they won't put up much of a fight," he chuckled.

"Don't be so sure," said Magdalene. "Civil war brings demons to the surface."

Damien glanced at the selected group of leaders, including Henri, Chris, Magdalene, and Chip. "Everyone remembers the plan?" One decided quite early that morning, but the prince hoped it would work.

The leaders nodded. Damien directed his attention to Magdalene. Her heavy armour reflected in the dim sunlight, causing him to squint. "I'll meet you at the castle."

She nodded. "As long as Henri holds off the villages, I'll be there."

The elder prince rolled his eyes. "Don't fret, I'll be there. Just don't choke on the dust we leave behind."

The young woman squinted and as her mouth opened, Damien held up a hand. "Enough, Henri. We need to focus." He turned his horse to the slew of soldiers waiting impatiently behind their leaders. Horses snorted, stomping their feet as the men's voices rose louder as their excitement grew.

"We fight for King Emmanuel, our country, and our brethren!" Damien shouted.

Soldiers let out cries of agreement, raising their desired weapons. The prince steered his horse around and his group of men came to his side, flanking the prince protectively. He noticed his brother and the other leaders scatter in the men, finding their positions amongst the chaos. The prince took a deep breath then urged his horse into a gallop. Before doing so, the steed rose up on its hide legs and neighed. Once back on the ground, the soldiers descended on the town of Chaumont.

The first thing Damien heard was a scream. A child's scream. The trees became green blurs around him, the houses brown and people almost black with soot, but the scream almost made him pause. As he led his group down the main strip of road, he could feel the eyes of innocent villagers on him. Or were they innocent? He swallowed a lump in his throat. How many wanted him and his brother, his father, his sisters and mother dead?

The eyes followed him and the men as they rode on to Castle Chaumont. Damien glanced behind him to see villagers with their heads craned out of windows and peeking from behind doorways. They watched the charge in surprising silence. The prince saw his brother's men lingering behind, trying to keep the wandering villagers as far from Damien's group as possible.

"Do you think they will listen?" Chris shouted.

Damien shrugged. "We can only hope! Are you ready?"

Chris nodded and pulled down his helmet's visor. "Always, Majesty!" The young man's horse veered right and he along with his group were gone.

The castle was in sight. Its coned, blue roofs reflected against the sky and the white bricks seemed almost welcoming to the prince. It was hard to imagine such a quaint castle hosting a villain. He remembered visiting once in his youth. Ophelia had danced in their hall while the villagers clapped. Camilla made a friend who she wrote to once in a while. Perhaps she still did today, he couldn't remember. And hadn't the boys met some boys around their age and sparred while others danced? His stomach churned. How long had it taken for the innocence to die here?

He felt the air still. His breath caught in his throat and solidified. Then Damien saw the arrow. He ducked just in time but he heard it knick on of his men's suits.

"Ready your weapons!" he shouted. The prince looked at the towers, trying to figure out where the lone arrow came from. He saw no hidden shooter, but when another arrow hit one of his men's horses, the prince's blood started to race.

"Fire!"

A selected group of archers shot at the castle where they suspected the attacker to be. As they continued, another arrow came from a different direction, followed by another, and another. Damien kept searching but nothing jumped out at him. He raised his visor.

"Majesty, look!"

The prince's eyes widened and he stopped his horse. Men heavy with arrows suddenly lined the rooftops of the castle. He winced as one arrow almost nicked his horse.

"What do we do Majesty?" one of his men asked.

Damien thought back to the plan. He hadn't accounted for this magnitude of defense.

"Send word to Henri. Make sure he keeps the other villagers back. Chip should be in position, along with Magdalene. Send someone to Chris. Warn him," the prince decided.

The designated man nodded then took off at a gallop. Damien looked back at the archers and ducked as an arrow whizzed by his head. He put down his visor and waved them forward.

"Fire!"

He could hear the muffled shots around him but he continued to press on. Through the slits he saw the castle drawbridge still up. In his line of vision, an archer fell from the roof into the mote. The prince spotted the lever for the bridge and surged his horse forward. If he could just bring that down, then they had a chance of getting inside.

Damien glanced up at the roof and reined his horse in. "Ready your weapons!" he ordered, withdrawing his sword.

One of the enemy soldiers withdrew their own sword and made a lunge for the prince. He blocked the attack then kicked the enemy back with his boot. Damien slid off the saddle, keeping one hand on the reins and the other on his sword. The man didn't waste time in attacking the prince again, making a definitive lunge to his neck. Damien grunted as he used his sword to block it yet again and ducked as another enemy soldier attempted to take him out from behind.

The soldiers seemed to pour from the rooftops like ice water. Every time Damien disarmed one, another popped up. He slid his sword through a man's side then proceeded to dislodge another's hand.

"Where is Chris?" he muttered as he tossed aside his helmet. As he did so, Chris' group rode over and leapt into battle. Damien sighed.

 _About damn time._

Damien wasn't sure how long it took to get rid of the adversaries, but by the time it was done, he could barely stand. The prince leaned back against his horse and took a few deep breathes. When he opened his eyes, Chris was in front of him. He had a gash on his cheek but other than that, he appeared in one piece.

"Well?" said Damien, his arms crossed.

Chris blushed. "We had some difficulties getting here. Magdalene and her team were a little overwhelmed and Chip's group had to go back to help your brother."

His arms fell to his sides. "Is Henri alright?"

Chris nodded. "I believe so, Majesty. I'm sure nothing is amiss," he promised.

Damien nodded. "Good. Well, we'd best see about Magdalene then."

Suddenly, the drawbridge started to lower. Damien's eyes widened. His hand fell to his sword as he watched the wooden structure rest on the ground. At the entranceway stood Magdalene, her armour covered in blood and her hair matted, but otherwise in perfect health. She cradled her helmet underneath her arm.

"What is there to see?" she asked with a smirk.

Damien chuckled. "Nothing I suppose." He began to walk over to her. "How did it go?"

She shrugged. "Well enough. I did not expect him to be so well-prepared."

The prince agreed. "He must have received warning somehow."

"Unfortunately. Hopefully none of the other dukes know. I lost one of my best men today. How many are left in your band?"

Damien looked behind him and attempted to do a headcount but lost track. He glanced back at the woman. "Enough."

"I lost two," Chris supplied.

Damien nodded. "Their families will be provided for. We shall make sure of it." He scooped up his helmet. "Where is he?"

"My men are still searching. There are many chambers here, much more than I am used to. We could use your assistance."

The prince looked to the younger man. "Station your men outside the castle. Guard it well. My men will come in and guard inside while we search."

Chris bobbed his head. "Yes, Majesty." He walked back to his men and began barking orders.

As the prince and Magdalene began their search, Damien noticed how little the place had changed since his visit. The halls were finely furnished and the windows sparkled. The prince wondered how the duke managed to furnish the place, seeing as his allowance wasn't any larger than the other dukes of his region. He tried to recall who the duke's wife was.

"The boy, Chris, he is very good. A good leader," Magdalene said as she stuck her head into one of the chambers. She pulled it out a minute later, shaking her head.

Damien nodded. "I suppose. He's young, but he does hold promise. Perhaps if we can salvage this village-"

"You should not count your chickens, Sire."

"Is it wrong to hold hope?"

She nodded. "In these times, yes."

"You are just as cynical as your father."

"Actually, Papa is quite optimistic. I get my moods from my mother," she smirked.

"I should have guessed."

The pair heard clanking armour and turned to find one of Magdalene's men trying to catch his breath. "We found him."

Damien could hear his heart thumping in his ears as they ran to the designated room. It had been leading up to this. The hunt was almost complete and the prince could scarcely believe they had made it this far. He wondered if this would be the easy part of his day.

When the trio entered, Magdalene's men had already disarmed Lord Basile and his six partners. The duke struggled in the firm grasp of the soldiers, his armour clanking against the floor as his black hair whipped back and forth. They forced the duke to his knees to kneel before the prince, but his legs had to be kicked out from underneath him before he would do it.

The prince tried to imagine this man plotting to overthrow the king, pictured him scheming away in his little hole. His eyes narrowed at the thought.

"Are you Lord Basile, Duke of Chaumont?" he asked.

"You know I am you bilge rat," Basile growled.

One of Magdalene's knights punched the lord in his stomach.

"That's no way to speak to the heir to the crown!"

"He's not my heir! Princess Helena, first born to the first son of King Lucien is the only one I shall serve." Basile spat at the prince's feet. "You aren't fit to wear her dresses."

The remaining soldiers pointed their weapons at the lord. "Shall I slit his throat, Majesty?" one asked.

Damien shook his head. "Not yet. He might be useful. Lord Basile, do you admit to raising support to help the princess overthrow my father? If you admit the truth, I shall spare this village."

The duke glared to the prince. "Why should I trust a thieving prince like you? Your monstrous father stole the throne and I bet he didn't teach you anything better! I'll never-" his rant was cut short due to a cuff upside the head from the prince.

"Put him and the others in the dungeon. We'll deal with them in a moment. Where is my brother?"

Henri lingered in the doorway. "Right here, just trying to," he paused, "catch my breath. You'd be surprised at how tough those men are. I had hoped they wouldn't put up much of a fight," he said as he wiped his brow. "Did he give you any names?"

The prince walked over to his brother and shook his head. "We didn't get that far, as expected."

The elder nodded. They watched the seven men be carried out of the room with Magdalene leading them. Once alone, Henri stared at his little brother. "Now what?"

Damien shrugged. "What do you think?"

Henri didn't answer. He walked to the window and stared at the village, with its streets filled with injured men and soldiers. Women tended to their own men but Damien saw some were doing what they could for Henri's group of injured soldiers. Children poked sticks against the ones who had already passed.

"What Father would want us to do," Henri said quietly.

Damien agreed. "We'll have to do the same to the six we found with him."

"They could know something, but I doubt they'll say anything," his brother replied.

Damien rolled his shoulders back, trying to stretch the tight muscles. "I'll direct the men. Send word to the other groups. Make sure they round up the villagers. Perhaps there is still hope."

Henri nodded. "Perhaps. What will you do?"

The prince placed his helmet on his head and turned to the door. "I'm going to try one last time."

"It's pointless," said Henri. "He won't tell you a thing."

"I have to try. I need to know why."

Henri sighed then waved his brother away. "Fine, waste your time. I'll meet you by the oak."

It didn't take long to find the dungeon. He was surprised to see Basile had his own chamber. He leaned forward against the metal bars, taking off his helmet yet again.

"Is this what you imagined victory looking like?" the duke said.

"I would have preferred this never to have happened, but I suppose so, yes."

Basile chuckled. "You are weak. Even now you try to offer me a way out."

"I haven't offered a thing."

"Yet."

Damien sighed. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"You know what I am asking."

Basile leaned back against the stony wall. "And you know I cannot answer. It would betray her."

"She has betrayed the kingdom! You owe us."

"I owe you nothing! For years I slaved for your family and your father never even thanked us for all we did while he was incapacitated. If it hadn't been for his brother and the dukes, there would be no France for him to rule."

Damien shook his head. "If you surrender willingly we could make this work. You could come to the kingdom and we could arrange-"

"No, I want none of your deals. Leave me be. Dying men must be allowed their privacy."

The prince stared at the duke then took a step back. "So be it," he whispered. He turned on his heel just as a selection of his men were coming down to gather the prisoners

By the time he made it to the oak, the entire village, or what was left of it, had gathered in front of the tall tree. Its limbs were sturdy and it seemed to be the perfect place for what had to be done. The thought still made the prince queasy, but he kept his eyes focused on the scene before him.

The knotted ropes swung from a long, thick branch. A makeshift platform had been constructed from spare wood lying about and thrown underneath the branch. Everything was ready.

Damien snapped his fingers and Lord Basile was produced along with the six other men from earlier. In the light, the prince could see most of them housed black eyes, limps, and one clutched his arm. Their fine clothing was replaced by sacks of cloth and their shoes were gone. The prince wondered what had transpired in the dungeon after he left, but thought it best not to ask.

The men were led up onto the platform. Damien watched the ropes be slipped around their necks as they balanced, waiting to die.

"You have been charged and found guilty of high treason against the crown of France. If you have any last words, speak them now before God shall judge you for your wickedness," said Henri, loud enough so the crowd could hear.

Damien watched Basile. His mouth did not open. His eyes were shut and he appeared calm. Beside him, one of his trusted companions raised his head. His eyes fell on Damien.

"Long live Princess Helena."

"Long live the rightful heir!" said another guilty party.

Soon, all but Basile were shouting such things. Damien, afraid they would start a riot, made a pulling motion with his hand. The soldiers pulled out the necessary boards from underneath the men's feet. The prince watched as the bodies flailed. He heard their necks snapping and he could taste bile rising up in his throat as the last of them, Basile, passed on.

 _May God have mercy on your soul._

The prince waited a moment then came to the forefront of the crowd. He could hear the murmurs of the people, from sadness or anger he couldn't be sure. "Good people of Chaumont, now you see what happens when you disobey the law and in turn, the crown, which was hand chosen by God to rule over this country. Henceforth, changes will be made. Before that is to take place, I give you a chance to redeem yourselves. We will leave an appointed leader to preside over this village until this revolution is under control. Then, if you have behaved, we will work to better this village."

Silence followed his speech. The young man took this as a hopeful sign. He smiled and turned his head, about to say something to his brother, when someone shouted his name. As he turned, he saw a hand holding a dagger. His hand went to the hilt of his sword but before he could pull it out, a body blocked his and took the blade meant for the prince.

Soldiers swarmed the criminal. "Long live Princess Helena!" the surprise attacker shouted.

Damien ignored the man and knelt at the wounded soldier's side. He rolled the man over and his hands were slick with blood.

"Hamlin, what were you thinking?" he muttered as he tried to find out where all the blood was coming from. The older man's light brown bangs fell over his blue eyes and he appeared to have a hard time focusing on the prince.

"Saving," Hamlin coughed, "a prince," he muttered. "My job."

One soldier came over. "I know a little medicine, Sire. Let me take care of him. We need to leave, now."

Damien looked up and saw his men urging the fighting crowd back as they pressed forward, trying to get the royal princes. The prince saw his brother hovering nearby, his sword already drawn.

"Chris, grab two of your men. Get Hamlin onto a cart with the doctor. Guard it with your life," Henri ordered.

Chris nodded, withdrawing his sword, and went off to find a cart. The prince squeezed Hamlin's armoured hand. "It will be alright, Hamlin."

The soldier laid there clutching his side. He gave a nod as a groan escaped him. Soon, a cart was brought over and Damien watched the man lifted onto it. The horse was sent off at a trot to the hill where their camp had once been. Henri appeared beside his brother.

"We have to do it Damien."

The younger shut his eyes and shook his head. "Henri-" he started.

"No. You are not fighting me on this. This is going to stop today," Henri promised. "It has to be everyone."

"Even the children?"

"Yes, even them. They will only carry the hatred of their parents inside them if they live. Think of what we could leave our children if we spare these lives."

"But we are not God, Henri! How can we do it? How can you think of-"

"I don't think. That's your job." He pulled down his visor and waved over his men. "Find as much wood as you can. Get every villager inside a house and lock it tight. We need fire, someone build one, a large one."

Damien watched silently as the men worked on doing what their prince required. He felt his stomach tangle itself in knots. No one seemed to notice he had yet to make an order, but the prince couldn't open his mouth at this point. When Henri's back was turned, he slipped away to the hill. He couldn't see the cart. The prince settled on the grass, his armour seizing him up in some places, and watched.

 _I should be down there helping. I could-_ No, he could not. At the thought of locking people up, lighting the houses on fire . . . he shut his eyes. He could not stomach it, not yet.

As people were shoved into their houses, Damien could smell the smoke from the fire. He watched it grow bigger and bigger, then little torches were made. One by one, every house in the village of Chaumont was alight. The flames licked every rooftop, stone, walkway, pair of shoes, and leaf. Damien watched people trying to escape out of windows, but they could not be opened. He turned his gaze away from the jiggling door handles, the boarded up windows. He blocked the peoples' cries, children's screams, and yelping animals from his ears.

The knights came back to the hill, some carrying the wounded on their back, others gulping back water they managed to stock up on. Chris came over to where the prince still sat. "Every house has been lit, Sire. What now?"

Prince Damien looked down the hill at the tree where the body of Lord Basile still swung in the breeze.

"Now, we leave," he stated.

Chris nodded then went back to his horse, telling others along the way to mount up. They needed to find a new camp to rest for the night. Before the fire became too strong, all the soldiers were ready to get back on the trail. Magdalene, Chip and Henri organized their men. All that was left was Damien. He couldn't look away from the destruction.

Smoke curled into the darkening sky. No stars came out. He could still hear the screams, but the wind started to carry them away. He closed his eyes and saw the man who caused this last resort to surface. He wished the man had left his dagger at home.

"Damien," said Chip. The prince opened his eyes.

"We have to go, Damien. There's nothing more we can do."

The prince shuddered as he watched the inn crumble.

"Damien," Chip tried again. The sharp scent of burning flesh reached him. He leaned to his side and vomited, the acid burning the back of his throat as his eyes stung from unshed tears. When he raised himself back to his full height, something in him settled.

Chip squeezed his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The prince nodded and rose to his feet. He mounted his horse then trotted to the front of the group where Henri waited. Damien took out the map from inside his chest plate and drew an "x" over the village of Chaumont.

"Where to now?" asked Magdalene.

"Toyes," said Henri. "We'll set camp first. Take a few of your men and report back. We'll trail behind."

She agreed and set out with a handful of soldiers. The cavalry set out behind them.


	13. Chapter 12

A hawk screeched. Ophelia awoke with a start, a gasp escaping her parted lips. She looked around the sun-filled bedchamber. Her hand ached. She gazed at it and realized it still lay on the young man's forehead. Hiding between her fingers laid the damp cloth. When did she fall asleep?

The clock above the mantle read fifteen after five. The princess shuddered. "Two hours of sleep isn't enough," she muttered. She let out a yawn. "Well, how are you sir? Without a fever I hope," she whispered. Ophelia removed the cloth and felt his forehead. She smiled.

"It seems you made it through the night. Good on you." Her stomach gurgled. Raoul groaned. The dog rolled onto his back, demanding his belly be scratched. Ophelia rolled her eyes then took care of her dog's itch.

"What say we find some food, Raoul?"

The dog huffed as he got to his feet. Together they exited the room, leaving the door partially open.

It seemed natural to scavenge through cupboards that didn't belong to her, especially with a stomach driving her to find some form of food. Although, as she did so she prayed the man would not awaken just yet. Ophelia doubted anyone, least of all someone injured, wanted someone looting around their things.

Raoul whimpered at the back door. When she let him out, she recalled the man's horse. The animal would need a feeding as well. The princess pulled a loaf of bread, butter, strawberry jam, and an apple out of a cupboard near the sink. As she assembled her meal, she considered her options for the day.

If the man did not awaken, she would have to find a doctor of some kind. If that were to occur, everyone, especially her parents, would know she spent the night in a stranger's house. That news would be worse than the thought of Ophelia lost or possibly dead. So long as she remained here, she had time to come up with a viable reason for being gone so long. Ophelia shook her head. He would have to awaken. From there, she could decide what to do next.

 _Hopefully he is an agreeable sort._

Raoul barked. Ophelia set the bread and apple on a small plate then headed to the door.

"Coming, coming! It's not as if there aren't many things to sniff out there," she muttered. The large dog bounded over to the counter, tail wagging, and whimpered. Ophelia sighed. She grabbed another slice and tossed it to her canine friend.

"Hopefully that will sate you for the time being. I do believe our patient is still upstairs," she reminded.

Ophelia let Raoul lead the way up the massive steps as she balanced her plate and a kettle of tea. She was grateful it managed to keep warm this late into the night. Well, early morning technically. Ophelia briefly wished she was at home in the library, curled up on the couch in front of the fire.

She opened the door wider with a light nudge from her hip. All was still quiet inside. The curtains rustled in the breeze, brought in by the open window from the night before. The patient slept on. Ophelia made her way back to the chair where she settled her things on the bedside table. Light trickled in as well, but it wasn't enough for the princess' liking.

"Don't even think of touching my food, Raoul," she warned. The princess got up and pulled back the lace fabric. She watched the room fill with sunlight. From her position she could make out the thin layer of dust covering most surfaces. Ophelia wandered back to her chair but before sitting down she noticed that indeed there was a second level to the bedroom. She squinted, trying to make out what was hiding up there, but after a minute she gave up. She would have to ask the man whenever he awoke.

The cushion against her back was a welcomed relief to the aching muscles running across her spine. As she consumed a piece of bread, she kicked off her shoes and let the slide under her chair. She placed her stocking feet up on the soft mattress and reclined further against the chair.

"Don't worry sir, I haven't forgotten about you. We'll see how that leg is doing then go from there. I hope that will be satisfactory."

"Mmf," he grunted.

Ophelia blinked. She put down the half-eaten meal and leaned closer. "Pardon me, sir?"

She watched him exhale as his eyes opened. The princess gasped. His eyes—jade, of the purest kind, that's what they reminded her of. It was like he had the treasured rocks locked into his eye sockets, their brightness astonishing. She had never seen such a thing in any other human before. His chapped lips, surrounded by a scruffy beard, parted as he took another breath.

"Who—are you?" His voice was rough but she understood him clearly. As she was about to reply, his gaze turned hard, reminding her of granite. "What are you doing in my house?" he asked as his voice became stronger than before.

Ophelia blinked. "I—you fell, sir. I found you in the woods. I brought you home and . . . took care of you."

His eyes became narrow slits. "How did you know to take me here? No one knows this place exists. Have you been spying on me?"

"What? No! Of course not," she exclaimed as her cheeks turned rouge. "Your horse led the way, I merely followed. And you're welcome, by the way."

"For what!"

Ophelia pointed to his leg. "If I hadn't found you, the wolves surely would have. At the very least you would be without a leg.

The young man pushed himself into a sitting position. "What did you do to it?"

Ophelia huffed. "Me? I didn't do a thing, other than stitch it up! It was your own poor riding that caused the bone to break, not me."

"I'll have you know I am a fine horseman!"

The princess rolled her eyes. "Could have fooled me."

"What happened to my tunic?" he asked as he touched his bare chest.

"You had a fever. You almost died."

His eyes became wide like the plates in his cupboards and his cheeks mimicked the princess' in shade. "You—undressed—me?"

Ophelia picked up her apple and took a bite. "Would you have preferred to die?"

The man crossed his arms. "Haven't your parents taught you to respect a person's . . . person?"

"They taught me to help those in need. I think you and that bum leg qualify."

"They must be ashamed of you."

Ophelia smirked. "You'll have to ask them that at the next ball."

His frown deepened. "Don't think I wouldn't, if I actually went to such tedious things."

The princess took another bite. She wiped her mouth of the juice as they watched each other. Awake he was quite handsome, despite his course behaviour. His bedhead made her mentally chuckle. Suddenly, Raoul's head appeared over the bed and rested against the mattress. The man almost screamed.

"You let a stray in?" he yelped.

Ophelia chuckled. "He's not a stray. Raoul is my friend. He saved my life when I was young. Raoul, I present to you Sir-"

"Nicholas." He paused, sending her a glare. "I am not being introduced to a dog!"

"You just were." In a few quick bites she finished off the apple and gave Raoul the core. "I'm going to tend to your birds and horse. Do you want anything before I head out?"

Nicholas' face scrunched up as he swung one of his legs over the edge of the bed. "Yes, I want you gone. You are never to return to my manor. I want you to forget this place exists."

She glanced at his injured leg, watching as he tried to move it off the bed. "I wouldn't do that-" his cry cut her off. She leaned over and caught him as he started to fall. Her cheeks grew hot as his hands gripped the expanse of skin just below her breasts. They fumbled along, trying to maneuver him back onto the bed.

"Let go, I can handle this myself!"

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "If you'll just trust me for one bloody second I could-"

"Trust you? I don't even know you!"

"The feeling is mutual I assure you, now sit down on the mattress!"

He listened, after a few minutes more. Ophelia made quick work of propping his leg up with a handful of decorative pillows. He kept silent, refusing to meet her gaze.

"There," she concluded with a sigh. "Think you can handle this until I get back?"

Nicholas didn't say a thing. She glanced at his hands. They were clenched together on his lap. Ophelia took his silence as a "yes" and with that in mind she put her shoes back on.

"I'll leave Raoul for company. Both of you had best behave!" She shut the door behind her.

The princess paused, leaning back against the varnished wood. She let out a deep breath and shut her eyes. After a minute, once her heart had stopped racing, she descended the staircase for the stable yard.

 _So much for agreeable._

Nicholas' yard was much more impressive during the day. She was right she had smelt rosemary the night before. A full garden brimmed with a variety of herbs lingered near the wall of trees. Said garden was blocked off from the wood by a well-constructed fence. Ophelia spotted the thick pile of logs pressed against the side of the manor. She would have to grab some for later.

There was also a vegetable garden hiding in the large backyard. The princess wondered what all Nicholas grew. From her position she spotted the tuffs of carrots. That would go well in a stew for later, she thought.

As she went to the stable, she pondered on the young man. She didn't recognize his name. He mentioned his dislike for balls. Perhaps he hadn't attended court. No, that wasn't likely. She was sure he was, or had been a knight at some point. How else would he have earned himself such a nice plot of land? Then again, he could easily have gotten it another way, one that was likely punishable by death. Ophelia shuddered. He didn't seem particularly evil though. Rough around the edges, yes, but perhaps that came with the territory of seclusion. She wouldn't know.

Outside the stables rested a pile of oat bags. She grabbed one and dragged it behind her. After lifting the young man, her arms were not ready to hoist such material over their shoulders yet again.

Nicholas' horse greeted her with a whinny. "Good morning to you too," the princess chuckled. "Do you know how much of this stuff you get?"

The horse stomped her hoof. Ophelia shrugged. "After your heroism last night, I'd say you've earned at least half the bag. What Nicholas doesn't know won't hurt him."

After brushing the horse, mucking out the stables, and adding some more hay to the stall, the princess exited to the backyard.

"What do ducks like to eat?" she muttered to herself. The princess gathered as much as she could find for all the birds she knew hidden in the room. She worried about the ones she hadn't seen the night before, but decided she would take care of that later. Perhaps Nicholas already had food in there. She hadn't exactly been looking too carefully.

Ophelia retraced her steps back to the bird room. Along the way, she listened for any movement upstairs. So far, nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief.

The bird room was strangely quiet. She remembered all the sounds from before and shuddered. How many predators hid inside there?

"Alright birds, I know I'm not your usual feeder, but I come bearing gifts," she said. The same call that woke her that morning sounded again. She turned around and swallowed the lump in her throat. The hawk's beady golden eyes were set on her. The intensity in said gaze reminded her too much of Nicholas. Ophelia recalled passing a closed box by the door. She went back to it, keeping one eye on the hawk, and flipped it open. Inside laid a nest of mice. She picked up one by the tail and held it before her. She watched as the hawk leapt off its perch above the door and flew down, grabbing the still squirming mouse from her hand. The wind from its wings brushed against her cheeks and she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she maneuvered her way through the crowded sanctuary. Ophelia refilled all the empty trays and took the buckets by the door, putting the cool water inside the bowls. The ducks quacked at her from the pond. At least she wasn't trying to take their water.

As she did all this, Ophelia was surprised to find most were in perfect health. Did the birds then choose to stay in such a unique domain, or were they unable to completely leave Nicholas' territory? Ophelia wondered how much space Nicholas claimed to own in these woods. The princess looked up at the open window in the roof. Was there something outside that permitted birds to exit only so far? She hadn't remembered seeing anything outside earlier.

Time passed quickly in the bird room. She found herself sitting cross-legged on the grassy floor as the birds carried on with their day. At least they were comfortable around humans. A collection of ducklings were quite interested in her skirt. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at their grabbing bills.

"You work well with nature. I didn't expect that," said Nicholas.

Ophelia's head whipped around, causing the ducklings to quack. "What did you expect?" she asked. She wanted to ask how he managed to make it down the stairs in his condition, but she soon spotted Raoul's large frame in the doorway.

"I'd rather not say," Nicholas replied.

She got to her feet and dusted off her skirt. "Why do you keep birds in your home?"

Nicholas shrugged. "Why do you keep a dog?"

She shook her head. "That's not the same."

"It is to me."

The princess nodded. She couldn't think of a retort to that statement.

"You should leave. Your family will miss you."

She smirked. "You only want me gone. I doubt you care if I am missed."

He blushed. "Yes, well," he cleared his throat and took a step inside the room. "Be that as it may, I-" his words were cut off as he proceeded to fall forward. With no exclamation to warn her, Ophelia didn't have a chance to help from her position. By the time she got close enough to do any work, Nicholas was already on the floor cursing and clutching his leg.

"Are you alright? Here, give me your hand, I'll-"

"I don't need you! I don't need-" he seized up, his face contorted in pain, yet still when he saw her hand he smacked it away. Ophelia clutched the stinging appendage and backed away. She watched, helplessly, as Nicholas struggled for ten long minutes. His determination was impressive, but the princess grew increasingly uncomfortable at his position.

Finally, when he was on his back and out of energy, she crouched down to his level.

"Are you finished?" she asked quietly.

When he met her gaze, any mockery or humour left in her died. Before her laid a man whose brokenness she could reach out and touch. She could feel it in her ribs. The princess waited until he nodded then took his hand in hers. She felt the crease of an old scar brush against her palm, causing her to jump. Her fingers flexed around his as she pulled him into a sitting position. From there, Ophelia wrapped an arm underneath his shoulder blades and motioned for Raoul to come closer.

"Lean on me. We'll get you back on your feet soon," she promised.

The man said nothing. She felt his heavy-set frame, built up from the hard labour he did around here she suspected, lean closer against her. With his submission she rose to her feel. Raoul helped on the other side, making sure Nicholas' knee didn't lock up.

Three minutes later, the two humans were upright once more. Nicholas avoided her eyes but his grip didn't loosen.

"Let's get you back upstairs," she whispered.

As they walked, she noticed the palm wasn't the only scarred appendage. His cheek held a small cut and she remembered from the night before an old slash on his knee. She wondered what kept happening to him.

Once back inside the room, Nicholas dislodged himself from her side and gripped his dresser. He clung to anything he could, wall carvings and chairs, the list went on until he was back to his bed. Ophelia uncrossed her arms and walked over. Raoul beat her and leapt onto the bed with his tail wagging. The princess raised an eyebrow as she came over. She took a gentle hold of his sore leg and swung it over the edge of the bed. She set to work cleaning the wound and rewrapping the bandage.

"Apparently, he likes you," she said quietly.

Nicholas leaned his head back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling. "What is your name?"

The princess rolled down the leg of his trousers. "Ophelia."

Nicholas did not answer, but she felt him staring at her. She closed her eyes for a moment then looked back at him. He gave her a nod then gathered his covers around him. She noticed how he made room for Raoul on the bed.

"What would you like for lunch?" she asked as she got to her feet.

Nicholas manoeuvered himself onto his side with his back facing her. "Make whatever you desire."

With that, Ophelia quickly strode to the door and shut it behind her, racing down the staircase to the garden. A stew was the perfect thing to get the chill out of her bones.

"I've fed the birds again, the same with your horse. Supper is just on the table over there, I'm sure you'll manage to crawl to it if you get stubborn enough. I think that's all. Is there anything else you need?" Ophelia asked.

Nicholas shook his head. "You've done more than enough, Princess."

The princess sighed. "Please don't do that."

He blinked. "Do what?"

"That thing where you pretend you don't know my name and instead call me 'Princess'. It's most annoying, considering you know well enough I'd rather be called Ophelia."

Nicholas shrugged. "Technically speaking you are-"

"I know, I know. I'll see you tomorrow, Nicholas." She whistled and Raoul jumped off the bed. The door had almost shut behind her before she heard Nicholas mutter a "goodbye Princess." She rolled her eyes and proceeded outside of the manor.

On the way home, she ran through excuses to cover up for her absence.

 _I was with Sophia. Nan needed my help nannying. I got lost and was adopted by a wolf pack for the day. I saved a life._

She sighed. "I don't think this is going to end well, Raoul," she muttered.

The dog nudged her leg. Ophelia scratched behind his ear. "At least you won't abandon me."

A half hour passed before she reached the castle gates. Once inside the courtyard, a servant appeared before her.

"Princess, come with me please."

She raised an eyebrow. "Whatever for?" All Ophelia wanted right now was a bath and bed.

"Your parents have been looking everywhere for you. We were told to bring you to them as soon as you were located," the servant explained.

Ophelia gulped. "Take me to them, then."

Sooner rather than later, the princess entered her father's study to find her mother pacing the length of the room and her father constantly flexing his hands.

"Ophelia!" Belle exclaimed. The princess braced herself for the impact of her mother's hug. She held firm as the queen nearly knocked her off her feet.

"Where have you been?" Belle asked. "Are you alright? We were so worried, we thought . . ." the queen trailed off. She scanned her daughter's face. Belle cupped Ophelia's cheeks. "You look exhausted, darling."

The princess gave her mother a tight lipped smile. "I'm fine Mama, I just—I got lost after visiting Sophia. Raoul . . . he ran off and . . ."

Emmanuel got up from his chair behind his desk and stared at his daughter. She watched him blink tears from his eyes. Belle moved aside just in time for the king to hug his daughter.

"You must never, ever do that again," he whispered. "I thought you were dead. Camilla—we couldn't console her."

Ophelia returned the embrace with a nod. "I'll be more careful."

"I asked Sophia if she knew where you were. She said you were going to visit Colene." Jamie's voice startled the princess. She glanced at him as he leaned against the fireplace. "Did you?"

Ophelia blushed. "What is he doing here?"

Emmanuel withdrew and looked to the young man. "When he heard you were missing, Jamie offered his assistance. He was quite diligent in tracking down your movements."

Belle smiled. "We are most grateful to him for the help. I insist you go rest, both of you. I will tell Camilla you are home and she can get some sleep too. We could all use an evening of relaxation."

Jamie shook his head. "I shall escort the princess to her room first. To make sure she doesn't get lost."

Ophelia glared at Jamie, but her parents didn't notice. Belle nodded. "Thank you, Jamie." She kissed her daughter's cheek. "Have a good rest, dear. Tomorrow, I was thinking we could go to the village together."

The princess blushed. "We'll have to see how I'm feeling. I'm—quite tired."

The queen agreed then left with her husband. Once the door shut, Ophelia glanced at Jamie, her arms crossed over her chest. Something inside her started to tremble.

"Where were you, really?" he asked quietly.

"Nowhere of importance. You should head back to the village, Jamie. I'm sure your mother is missing you."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Have I done something to offend you, Ophelia?" He took a step closer to her and in turn, the princess moved closer to the door.

The image of Jamie cooing over Colene came back to her mind. She fought her desire to scream obscenities at the young man and instead smiled.

"No, of course not Jamie, why would you think such a thing?"

The young man smiled. "I was just worried, that's all." He went over to her and this time Ophelia didn't have room to run. She was caught off guard by the embrace from her friend. "We—I don't know what I would do if something happened to you," he whispered.

Ophelia raised her hand and patted his back. "Nothing will happen to me." She stepped out of the embrace and gripped the door handle. "Goodbye, Jamie."

He got a grip of her hand and held it tightly. "I'll see you tomorrow, then? In the village?"

She slid her hand from his. "Perhaps. Goodbye." She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, her hand still burning from before. She ran it through her hair and sighed. Sleep would most certainly be a welcomed relief.


	14. Chapter 13

Damien leaned back in his poorly constructed chair and stared at the map before him. It was littered with large "x" marks but a few holes still remained. He read the names over and over in his mind, wondering which one the soldiers should head to next. In three short months they had done much work, but it was not completed yet. He could feel the strain it was putting on his men, as well as himself. They had lost close to a thousand men since the start of their journey, Hamlin one of them. Damien did not want to think of how many villagers had died in the process of this form of cleansing.

The tent flap rustled open. Damien caught the tinkling of Henri's chain mail as it hung loose around his torso. His brother placed a platter of food overtop the map.

"I brought dinner."

The younger smirked. "I can see that. Mind moving it so I can get the map out before it's covered in grease?"

Henri lifted the food. "What's wrong with a little grease?"

Damien chuckled. Once the parchment was rolled up and placed safely in his pocket, his brother settled down opposite Damien and grabbed a roasted chicken leg. The elder had changed much since the beginning. His hair was shaggy and he now sported a fully grown beard. Henri's body was sturdier, weighed down by the added muscle he had acquired and the notion that their business wasn't finished. Outside of coordinating their next move, the brothers scarcely socialized. Henri cavorted with the friends he made, taking his evenings to play cards and sing along with the soldiers who had once been minstrels. He was always in arm's reach of Magdalene, or so it seemed to Damien.

Meanwhile, the younger prince stuck close to his tent, rethinking scenarios and running over various strategies. After an exceptionally long day, sometimes the prince would merely head to his cot and sleep the evening away. Chip managed to drag him out of the tent long enough to sing a few songs with the men, but as the journey continued, it seldom happened anymore. Damien wasn't even sure where Chip was at the moment.

"How are the men?" Damien asked as he bit into a stale piece of bread.

"In need of some rest. I don't think we can keep pushing them at such a rapid pace."

Damien agreed. "We only have a few places left. One of them must hold Helena. Once we find her, then we can be done with this business."

Henri grabbed another leg. "I still can't understand how she managed to escape that manor. We had it heavily guarded! Her husband-"

"Her husband is dead, thanks be to God. That's one less man we have to worry about."

"Yes, but there will be others who help her. It's already been proven by how much of the north we have had to restrain."

Damien nodded. "At least we haven't had to burn all the villages. Do you suppose the ones we left in charge are faring well?"

"I can't see why not. We left more than enough men to keep things under control. At least Father sent more soldiers, or we would be a most precarious situation." The elder grabbed at a sweet cake and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. "We'll find Helena then go home heroes. Seems like a good deal to me."

The younger shook his head. "If only it were easy enough to locate her. There aren't many places for her to go."

"Not in France," Henri said, brushing the crumbs off his mail. "But-"

Damien sighed. "I know, I know. A boat. She could be anywhere. Let's just hope she has not sought shelter in England, or we truly are in trouble."

Henri shrugged. "Doubtful. King Charles would not believe her word. He hated her father more than any countryman."

The younger kept quiet. Since word was brought back a few weeks prior about the death of Helena's husband, the men started to relax. Yet they forgot Helena's influence. Damien could not. In the night, when he was not dreaming of home, he kept seeing his cousin raising armies. He pictured the woman sending a slew of men to the castle, slaughtering the royal family. This wasn't hard to imagine. It had been done before in France's history. Damien still remembered the illustrations of such an event from his childhood.

 _God help us if it comes to that._

Damien looked up to find Henri staring at him. "What?"

The elder shook his head. "You need a night off."

"That's impossible, seeing as there's so much work-"

"What work? We're two day's journey from the next village. There isn't anything we can do now." Henri stood. "There's a village an hour's journey from here, a safe one. I had a few of my men scout it out. If we dress commonly enough . . ."

Damien shook his head. "Oh no, we are not sneaking into a town just to have a little fun. We have music here and-"

"It's not the same and you know it. Don't you remember the parties we used to have at the castle? Wouldn't it be nice to have that again, even if it did have to take place in some tavern? The men would love it."

"We can't take all the men. People would surely figure out who we were if we did."

Henri waved his hand in the air. "Fine, fine. A group. I'm sure a group of men would love to have a little fun before they get back to their duty."

Damien, seeing as his brother would not relent, gave a nod. "Alright, fine, you win. We'll gather a small group and head into that town. But I refuse to babysit you the whole night."

Henri smirked. "Babysit, me? For shame, Brother! You seem to forget who the elder is here."

"And you forget the amount of times I've seen you enjoy your drink a little too much."

The elder laughed and grabbed the platter. "Be ready in twenty minutes." The tent flap waved farewell after Henri exited through it.

Damien sighed. How did he manage to get himself involved in this? The prince went to his trunk and dug around for his most common apparel. A brown tunic, black trousers, black boots, and a cap the covered most of his hair would have to do. When he exited the tent, he saw a fire roaring nearby. A few men sat around it as they ate, but opposite to them was a familiar face. Damien went over and sat beside Chip. The elder was hunched over as he scribbled onto a piece of parchment. His fingers were stained with ink, as was his chin from when he scratched it.

"Who are you writing to?"

Chip jumped. His eyes were wide and pale, like the moon above, and it took a moment for him to gain his composure.

"My apologies Damien, I did not realize it was you. Sometimes I get a little too engrossed in writing," he chuckled.

The prince shrugged. "No matter. What is keeping you so engrossed?"

"Nothing important." Chip started to fold up the letter when Damien caught the name.

"You're writing to Josephine?"

The inventor's assistant blushed. He leaned back against the log and sighed. "That I am. I—have been writing many letters to her."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Chip opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. He exhaled quietly. "It is difficult to explain, Sire."

The prince settled comfortably onto the log. This was much better than heading to the village. "Try. I'm most curious."

After some struggling, Chip managed to spit it out. His affections, hidden as they were, had been growing for Josephine for some time. Truth be told he doubted she thought the same, but as time went on here in the battlefield he kept thinking of her. "When I write, the thoughts that keep me up at night are gone. I can focus. Until I see her face again in my mind and I . . . I realize how deeply I miss her. We grew up together, well practically. I understand she may be entranced by your brother but-"

"My brother? What does Henri have to do with any of this?"

Chip stared at the younger. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

Chip smirked. "Your brother is good at keeping such things private. Josephine has taken quite an obvious liking to Henri over the past year. I doubt he takes any of it seriously, but from what I have observed, she is entranced by him."

"If you know this, then why do you write her letters?"

The young man smiled sadly. "I don't know how not to."

Damien didn't understand what he meant, but the prince nodded. "What are you going to do once home?"

Chip shrugged. "I shall see what Josephine is feeling. If she is still enchanted with Henri, then I shall leave well enough alone."

"And if not?"

"If not, then I give her the letters and let her make her own choice."

"You certainly are leaving a lot up to fate, aren't you?"

Chip nodded. "It's gotten me this far."

"Why don't you come into the village with me and a few others? It would do you some good."

"No thank you, Damien. I am perfectly content here with my writing," he smiled. "You go on though. I think Henri and the others are ready."

Damien looked to where Chip motioned and spotted his brother, Magdalene, Chris, and about ten others lingering near the edge of camp. Henri saw him and waved him other. The prince glanced at Chip. "Try not to spend the whole night pining."

Chip chuckled. "I'll do my best."

The prince got up and went over to the others where he received a smile from Chis. "Good to see you coming with us, Sire."

Damien just nodded as he mounted his horse. Henri took the lead and soon enough, the group had parted from the safety of their camp.

"It's not as bad as when Henri here couldn't keep a-horse!" one of the men guffawed. Damien almost choked on his ale.

Henri rolled his eyes with a smirk. "You expect me to keep steady after getting jostled left and right, fine then let's see you walk a straight line right now!"

The group laughed again, louder than before. Damien was glad they took a back table. Despite how crowded it was in the cramped tavern, the men were enjoying themselves. Magdalene leaned briefly against Henri, nudging him in the side then reached out as the tavern wench came by with a tray of beers.

"Come Damien, have another. You've barely caught up with us!" she encouraged.

The prince shook his head. Henri chuckled as he took another. "He never could keep up with me."

Damien rolled his eyes. One of the men, Alexander, sighed. "These are the times where I miss my lady fair most."

"When you're out in a tavern?" Damien questioned.

Alexander shook his head. "When I'm laughing. She always makes me smile."

Chris nodded. "Sophia does the same."

Damien watched as the men's thoughts turned to the women they left behind. He glanced at his brother and wondered if he thought of Josephine. Instead, he saw Henri whisper something in Magdalene's ear. She shoved his shoulder lightly as she laughed. Damien squinted.

"Another round!" Henri called out.

The prince declined one a curly haired woman offered him. He was starting to think it was time to head home when Henri and Magdalene went to the floor and started dancing.

It was at least another hour before the group headed back. During that time, Damien wondered why it seemed that every other man in the group fantasized about the ladies back at home waiting for them, yet his mind wandered only to the safety of his bed back in the castle. He shrugged it off and as soon as the group had fumbled back into the campgrounds, Damien went to his tent. He stripped from the clumsy clothes and pulled on a night shirt and loose fitting trousers. He was tucked under his blanket with only a small lamp on when he saw shadows playing on the outside of the tent.

One looked to be that of a man. Arms wrapped around a waist and a head, too small to be a man's tilted upwards towards the larger shadow. The shapes morphed together until Damien couldn't differentiate the two. He watched for a minute or two then blew out the light as the pair separated. He heard the tent flap open and shut his eyes. Muttered voices flooded in, but only one figure entered. The tent was shut and someone crawled into Henri's bed. The prince opened one eye and saw Henri lying there with a dazed smile on his lips. Damien rolled away from his brother and shut his eyes tight.


	15. Chapter 14

"So when are you going to tell me what you're hiding in your room?" Ophelia asked as she took a bite of her sandwich.

Across the table, Nicholas scowled. "You presume too much, Princess."

"Is that your way of denying you are hiding anything, or do you simply not want to show me?"

"I hardly think it's any concern what I keep in my private chambers."

She smirked. "You underestimate my curiosity."

Nicholas snorted. "I underestimate _nothing_."

The princess shook her head and went back to her sandwich. The bread was thick, the honey smooth, and she was pleased with the jam section in the castle to have taken all the jars with her to Nicholas'. She didn't want to presume his favourite flavour, although she was pleased with herself for guessing right. He seemed like a blueberry man.

Oranges were nestled in the picnic basket along with a few apples and a handful of grapes. She originally wanted to take a smoked ham along, but she had a feeling the cook would notice that missing. Her plan had almost fallen apart when Josephine caught her rifling through the cupboards for the honey jar. Luckily, the girl was too sad to scold the princess. Ophelia's stomach twisted as she remembered the maiden.

 _I should have asked her what was wrong_.

Then again, if she had, she never would have gotten out of the palace. Nicholas needed her more than Josephine, or so Ophelia had convinced herself. To be truthful, the man was capable of handling himself in all areas, except the dressing of his wound. The princess suspected that was the only reason he still allowed her back into his home. That, and because he had grown especially close to Raoul as of late. Ophelia initially distrusted her dog's easy switch of favourites, but she let it go when she saw Nicholas asleep with Raoul curled up at his side. It had been hard to explain to her parents why Raoul didn't come back with her from her "hike," but they didn't ask any questions when he turned up with the princess after another "hike."

The dog snorted in his sleep as his tail flicked across the dusty kitchen floor. Ophelia usually cleaned it when Nicholas went to sleep, but over the past few months they started cleaning the area together. He did, however, allow Ophelia to tend to the birds every time she came over.

She stared across the small table and watched him pick a pickle out from between the slices of brown bread. He was an interesting man to be sure. Ophelia hadn't even begun to explore every room, but she had already seen a library, a room filled with scientific tools, a place where he stored broken pieces of furniture, and in his attic there was no shortage of odds and ends.

"Where do your parents think you go every day?" Nicholas asked.

Ophelia licked the trickle of honey from the back of her hand. "Oh, everywhere and nowhere I suppose. Sometimes I tell them I'm going on a picnic, sometimes I say I'm spending the day with my friends. Most of the time they don't ask. They have other things to worry about." Most of the time the only person she had to worry about was Jamie.

Despite his obvious affection for Colene, the princess still caught him being too nosy when it concerned her whereabouts. When on route to Nicholas' she had to bypass the village entirely. If Jamie even spotted one of her slippers as she ran through, he would be on her tail and then the trip to Nicholas had to be postponed, sometimes even canceled for the day.

"What could be more important than you?"

She recognized the sarcasm on his tongue and didn't bother with a reply. Instead she thought of Henri and Damien. Were they safe? Gods be good, she prayed every night yet they heard nothing. Well, she heard nothing. She suspected her parents received weekly updates but didn't bother to mention such things to her, or her sister. Then again, Camilla was still little. Some things she just wouldn't understand.

 _Perhaps I am underestimating her,_ she thought as she grabbed two more pieces of bread. Since her brothers left, Camilla spent a great deal of time in the gardens with Monsieur Florence. Ophelia attempted to spy on the pair once, but she only saw her sister bending over to pick flowers. Florence was up along the path, his back to the younger princess, and he was spouting off some gibberish she barely recognized. Latin, perhaps?

"I apologize, Princess that was—unkind of me," Nicholas said quietly.

Ophelia smeared honey over one of the pieces. "Monsieur Nicholas, do not trouble yourself with apologies. I promise you, my feelings are not hurt by mere words."

The young man knitted his brows together. "I told you not to call me Monsieur."

"And I told you not to call me Princess."

That got him. Ophelia smirked then bit into the bread.

After the food was cleared away, the princess suggested he head upstairs. "I'll come up and change your bandages once I make the remedy."

Nicholas nodded. "Don't do the dishes like last time. There's no sense in wasting water."

"There's even less sense in letting the food dry and stick to the plate," she replied.

He rolled his eyes. Nicholas pushed back the chair. She watched his knuckles turn white as he pulled himself up into a standing position. His leg shook, but once he was fully erect, he became the tall, proud man she had grown accustomed to over the past few months. He slapped his thigh and Raoul's head went up. The dog trotted over and received a scratch behind the ear before the pair headed out of the stuffy room. As soon as they were gone, Ophelia opened the window and sighed.

She wondered what Nan was doing. As of late, that was the only lady of her three friends she could stand to be around. Like Josephine, Sophia was too sad to spend much time with. At first they would share a cup of tea and everything wold be going splendidly, but after an hour, Sophia became tired and her mind would start to wander to her knight Christophe. After that, there was no point trying to keep a conversation going. Ophelia understood the girl's fears, but the princess didn't want to waste her visits only talking of the worst aspects.

Ophelia didn't hate Colene, but after seeing her with Jamie, every time she was around the girl she wanted to shout, "I saw you! I saw you together, why didn't you tell me?" Then again, Colene had no reason to assume the princess should be told. After all, Jamie was a free man and she a free woman. Ophelia wondered what that was like.

When the girls did visit together, which had last occurred a month prior, things had been uneasy. Luckily Nan was there and Ophelia didn't have a chance to corner Colene with her questions.

When Nan wasn't being a nanny, which was quite often, she became Ophelia's confidant. Although the princess had yet to disclose her . . . whatever this was with Nicholas, Nan did suspect there was something going on with Ophelia. Over the past few days, she had considered taking Nan to see Nicholas, but after her lunch, she wondered if that was such a smart idea.

 _He's had his own life here for years. Bringing me in has been a challenge; if I ask for him to accommodate someone else, it might be too much._ Too much socializing at least.

The salve for the wound bubbled in the pot as the water warmed Ophelia's hands. She watched the sun heat up the flower garden she had been cultivating. Perhaps she should pick some for the kitchen table. Everything in this house was too plain for her taste. She shook her head. Nicholas probably wasn't a huge fan of roses.

After letting the salve cool, she padded it down in a jar and grabbed a role of linen bandages. She left the dishes to dry on a hot towel.

"What took you?" Nicholas asked upon entering his messy room. Despite various attempts to tidy up, the only thing he would allow was the removal over broken glass. Apparently, while she was gone his mirror had fallen and shattered. He declined to explain how he got the cuts on his fist.

Ophelia pushed back her loose curls and pulled up a chair to his bedside. Raoul wagged his tail with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. She smiled at the dog before addressing the man.

"You know, for someone who used to be a knight, your common courtesies leave something to be desired." She placed the jar on his bedside table then rolled up her thin, sunflower coloured sleeves.

Nicholas crossed his arms and as his mouth opened, she dismantled the bandage, causing him to groan. "Gentle!"

The princess laughed. "Oh come now, Monsieur, I'm sure you have seen worse. Those scars you have tell stories." She stared at the marred piece of flesh. She had kept the stitches in place to allow more time for the deep gash to heal, but it looked about time for them to come out. The skin was no longer puckered and red, thankfully. She fished around in her deep, navy pockets and pulled out a small pair of scissors.

"Are you going to cut my leg off, Princess?" He almost sounded afraid.

Ophelia got off the chair and positioned herself on the bed. Nicholas leaned back against the headboard, his back stiff and straight. She took a hold of his leg and, after fixing her skirts, she placed said appendage on her lap with the scissors and salve nearby on the thin sheets.

"I just might if you keep calling me princess," she replied as she took a hold of the silver instrument.

"So while you're hacking away, what am I supposed to do?"

"Sit there and try not to scream."

Nicholas snorted. "I would never scream. But honestly, it can be quite dull just sitting here."

Ophelia sighed and put down the scissors. She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a small book. "Read this. Perhaps that will keep you amused." The small book landed with a flop on his lap. Nicholas picked it up and groaned.

"I would have thought you had better taste than this."

The princess began snipping. "What's wrong with _The Failings of Man_?"

"The fact that it completely overlooks war as one of our failings would be one."

"Really? Do tell."

Nicholas frowned. "I don't need your pity."

"Was that pity you heard? Darn, I was aiming for sarcasm. I'll have to work on that."

Nicholas huffed. "I do not appreciate being mocked."

"Then you should not do the same to others."

"Are you going to listen to what I have to say?"

"Perhaps. Talk and we'll see. This could be painful." She pulled one of the threads out from his wound and she watched his leg twist in the folds of her skirt. She placed her hands on either side of his calf and squeezed. "Please don't move. I might cut you."

When he didn't answer, she looked up to see his nose buried in the book as he exhaled deeply.

"Alright, tell me what you have to say about _Failings_ ," she muttered.

The man did not reply for a good minute. Finally, he set the book on his lap. "Your brothers are fighting for the kingdom, are they not?"

"What does this have to do with-"

"Just answer, please."

Ophelia pulled out another thread. "Yes." She kept a tight hold of his leg this time.

"Then war is something you are, by now, accustomed to, and don't you agree that it is not one of our shining moments as humans?"

"Well of course, but my brothers aren't fighting for a title, they are fighting to save the family."

"Perhaps that is their pretext, but once a man gets a taste for bloodshed, it is difficult to turn back."

Ophelia shook her head. "You don't know my brothers."

"I do know them, I know them very well."

"How? You never grew up with them. I would remember-"

"You were young, and I was only a face in the crowd."

Ophelia looked up from her work and stared at Nicholas. She tilted her head to the side and squinted. "Did you—teach them something?"

Nicholas shook his head. "I learnt alongside them until I went to battle."

The princess squinted, her hands hovering over the stitching. "For what?"

He smirked. "What else do we battle for? Glory, honour, a piece of land . . ." he trailed off.

She shook her head. "That's not what I asked. I do not recall a battle when I was little."

Nicholas stared at the book in his lap. "You and your brothers were placed in a manor far from where the fighting took place, Princess. Your mother was there with you."

"Where was my father?"

"Must you ask?"

She thought back on her childhood. Had there been a time where Emmanuel was gone for a significant period?

"You were barely five." Nicholas stared at her. "I was fourteen."

Her eyes widened. "That was before Camilla was even born. What—what happened?"

Nicholas leaned back against the bed. "I'd rather not say. It's—not something worth talking about." His eyes had gone misty, but not with tears, with something else, something . . . pain, perhaps? The princess shifted closer on the bed and leaned forward.

"Please tell me, Nicholas. Did you come to live in the castle afterwards, or-"

"I never went back to that place," he stated. His voice startled her. It had shifted, becoming choppy and secretive.

Ophelia opened her mouth to ask about his parents, but she pressed her lips together a second later. He wouldn't meet her gaze anymore, and the way his body seemed to curl in on itself as he remembered made her feel sorry for him. She moved back slightly and started her work again.

"Read to me," she requested.

"Pardon?"

"There's a chapter in there on agriculture, read it to me, please."

Nicholas picked up the book again and slowly turned the pages until he found the desired destination. Raoul came to rest his head on the man's lap.

"Despite proper procedures, man has decided that the land alone is his to claim . . ."


	16. Chapter 15

Damien dreamt of darkness.

An all-consuming blackness eroded the sound of his breathing as he ran. He rubbed his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of anything in the strange black, but it only made his eyes burn. He reached out with one hand, only catching air in his fist.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud and he jumped. He hung there, suspended in darkness, and tried to get back onto solid ground. He kept turning his head looking for something, anything, to grab onto. Nothing made itself known.

 _My brother—_

 _Is not of my concern. You, my sweet . . ._

The voices drifted off. Damien recognized the first voice to be his brother's. The second one . . . it could only be Magdalene. But was he imagining such a conversation, or was it taking place as he scrambled to find a way out of this dream world? Had Magdalene snuck back in to the tent?

He heard another crash. Whatever was holding onto him released their grip and sent Damien spiralling to the ground. He hadn't thought he was this high up, but the floor seemed farther and farther away as the prince kept falling. He kept his eyes wide open yet still saw nothing.

 _How I long for thee, my sweet Rose. The heart wants what it wants and mine . . ._

Chip. That was Chip. Where was he? Since when had the lad taken up poetry? Damien opened his mouth to call out, but the darkness slithered down his throat and ate the words. The prince started to choke.

He smelt smoke. His nose became clogged with the scent of burning flesh and he almost vomited the darkness out of his throat.

His feet hit the ground first, so suddenly that the prince felt a tremor ripple through his bones. He collapsed onto the hard floor still gasping for air.

 _Papa! Mama!_

Damien swallowed. That was his voice.

Something shook him and when Damien opened his eyes, the darkness was gone. Well, most of it. Henri pressed a hand over his brother's mouth and, with the other, placed a finger over his lips. Damien nodded and his brother removed his callused hand.

Henri pointed to the tent flap. Damien sat up in bed and tilted his head. Outside he could hear the clang of metal against metal. Men were shouting and every so often he saw the flicker of flames. Damien swallowed. It still felt like something was caught in his throat.

That was when he noticed his brother was in his armour. Henri had on his boiled leather jerkin and some metal against his legs. His arm pieces had not been slipped on, but the prince looked ready to go.

Damien mouthed the question "what's going on".

"They found us," Henri whispered.

The prince's stomach twisted. How had his cousin's men managed to locate them?

 _The village!_

Damien got up from his bed and searched for his metal suit. Henri already had his sword out of its sheath. The metal flickered against the dim light outside. Without waiting, Henri left the tent, thrusting himself into the battle.

The prince grabbed his leather and metal, piecing himself together as quickly as he could. He did not know what awaited him outside, but he could only expect the worst. He attached his sword to his side and hid a dagger in his boots, just in case.

Once the tent flap opened, there was no going back. Damien stared at the massacre before him.

Most of the tents had been knocked down. Some were on fire. He caught the scent almost immediately. Burned flesh. He swallowed thickly.

 _They are paying us back,_ he thought. _For all those we killed, we are now to receive the same justice._

Many of Damien's men were still alive, thank goodness. While the northerners were fierce, many were unskilled in the forms of fencing and sword play. Most carried dirks, daggers, axes, and arrows. Some even used fire as their main weapon. Damien estimated only three hundred ransacked the camp, but there could have been more in the beginning. He wondered how much he had slept through.

A good three hundred of the king's men were on their horse, but many of the animals lay dying across the grounds. Damien pitied the poor creatures. To his right, a northern lord slayed one of the knights. Damien unsheathed his sword and ran over to defend the fallen man.

The lord did not expect the blow, so the death was quick. A nice, clean slice along the neck took care of him. Damien felt the hot, red liquid land on his cheek. He gazed at the dead knight and shook his head. From the corner of his eye, he could see a man with an axe charging towards him. The prince ducked and swung his sword to the side, knocking the man onto the ground. His axe went flying onto the muddy ground and Damien saw one of his men grab it and run to help one of their friends.

The axe-wielding gent still laid on the ground, his knees likely only bruised. Damien slammed his boot against the man's chest and held it there.

"Tell me how you found us!"

The bearded man squirmed, trying to get free. He was small of build, but thick in the middle. His squirming did no good.

Damien held his sword against the man's unprotected neck. "Tell me!"

When the man still would not answer, Damien growled and pierced the end of his sword through the man's heart. The man's eyes went wide, then, as he took his last breath, his hand clutched the sword. Damien stared at his unclosing eyes and wretched the weapon free of the dead flesh.

It didn't take long for the Northerners to realize both princes were in the battle. Damien saw his brother fending of three attackers before Damien received a few of his own. One lunged with his dagger for the prince's side while another attempted to hurtle their axe into the base of his skull. Damien got the dagger wielder in the belly just as he moved his head away from the axe. He kicked the axe man in the chest and made quick work of him. Soon enough another two found him, then another, and another. The prince's arms were beginning to ache.

 _How many of you are there?_ Apparently his estimation had been off. It seemed like every time he got rid of one, another would pop up and attempt to harm the prince.

At one point, they almost succeeded. Damien was too focused on one gentleman who actually had a sword and knew how to use it. He only heard the cry of the man and the briefest tingle from the metal against the back of his neck before the sensation was gone. He turned to see the culprit with an arrow through his neck. The blood pulsed out and, when Damien looked around for his saviour, he saw Christophe reloading his cross bow. With a stab at the belly, Damien's other attacker was dead. He nodded his thanks to Chris then went off to see where Henri was.

No more fires had been lit since the princes joined the fight, but the stink hadn't disappeared. Everywhere he stepped there was a dead man, Northern or otherwise, littering the ground. Some were covered in burns. Damien shivered every time he went past. He was just glad none of the trees had caught fire in the commotion.

As he searched, he cut down as many Northerners as he could. His hair grew knotted in the strong breeze. It constantly whipped his neck but the assault didn't bother him. It was better that then a blade.

Lady Magdalene had a cluster of men surrounding her. She swiped at them with her sword and her braid flung around her in a circle. The prince took a step towards her, but was cut off by a northern lord.

"There you are, my prince, I thought you were still asleep. Such a pity it has to end like this," the man chuckled before getting dangerously close to removing the prince's head from his neck.

Damien grunted as their swords clashed against one another's. "Yes, what a pity. I always found you admirable, Vincent."

The black haired man smirked, his yellow teeth glowing. "I wouldn't want to tarnish that image, my lord."

They fought in silence for most of it, or as much quiet as they could get in this chaos. The prince pressed forward, making the lord stumble over his feet, and just went Damien thought he had the upper hand, he saw a man running and swiping the air with a fiery torch. Lord Vincent took the opportunity to lunge forward and while he did not stab Damien, the knick made the prince cry out. He tripped backwards over a rock and started to fall. As his head collided with the hard earth, he saw the flame, blurred as it was, getting dangerously close to his eye. He slashed with his sword and, before falling into darkness, he heard a man groan as his skin was pierced. Damien hoped it was Vincent.

Darkness came again, only this time he did not know if he would wake from this dream.


	17. Chapter 16

The grass cushioned Ophelia's head as she stared up at the cloudy sky. She knew she should have said no to this picnic business. Yet the thought of denying her friends a well-deserved visit wasn't possible, especially when it was Nan that asked.

"Come now, everyone misses you! Especially Jamie," the girl said with a wink.

Ophelia closed her eyes. She remembered how he appeared earlier the afternoon. His mother had sewn him a new coat, brown lined with fox fur, and his new, pleated pants stuck close to his long legs. His hair was slicked back and tied in a ponytail with a bright gold bow keeping it out of his face. As soon as they found a good spot to picnic, the chocolate leather boots came off, revealing crisp, white stockings that went to his knees. She wondered who he was trying to impress.

She heard Sophia's laughter. Ophelia smiled. It was nice to hear joy again. Two days ago, she heard news of her brothers' camp being attacked. What remained of the men were coming back home. The lords of the North had all but been defeated, and there was little chance of locating Helena now. Ophelia suspected this attack was a ruse to give her cousin a chance to escape the country, but she couldn't be sure.

Since hearing such news, the princess stayed home most of the day. She would go to Nicholas' in the late afternoon then head back home after supper to see if there was anything new about her brothers. In the letters she managed to sneak from her father's office, none mentioned her brothers' condition. She had an awful feeling they were dead.

That was another reason she was dragged along to the picnic. It was supposed to be a distraction, and for the most part it was, but once she was full and everyone started talking about things she had no opinion on, her mind started to wander.

She wondered what Nicholas was doing. Raoul spent the night at the castle but when Ophelia headed to the village, he slipped away to the manor. The princess imagined the dog sleeping by Nicholas' side as the man rested. She hadn't been able to weasel anything else from his past, but with his stitches out he was becoming chattier. They didn't always argue, at least not right away. She tried to keep her temper in check, especially when she saw how his mind wandered. Sometimes, she would be talking and his eyes would get the same look they got when she was taking out his stitches. She still hadn't been able to figure out what that look was, but it made her angry, mainly because she didn't know what was going on.

Maybe he was feeding the birds. She should have gone over and taken care of that before the picnic.

"Ophelia, you look lost. Is everything alright?" Colene asked.

The princess opened one eye and saw the lady curled up on the blanket, her knees drawn up while most of her body weight rested on one arm. Her blonde curls were loose and tossed over her shoulders while the pale dress pooled around her. The fair girl contrasted nicely with the dark, patchwork quilt Sophia brought from home.

"Yes, everything is fine," she replied, closing her eye again.

She heard movement on the blanket and felt someone leaning against her legs. One hand came to rest on the right side of her olive skirt and she tried to move over to give them room but they managed to catch the material underneath their hand.

"You're not very convincing, Ophelia, you'll have to do better than that," Jamie chuckled.

The princess took a deep breath and sat up. She gave the skirts a rough tug and successfully pulled them free of his unintentional grip. The man pouted.

"Where have you been, anyway? It seems like you're never around anymore," asked Sophia.

"Yes, I visited the castle once and your parents said you were on a hike. I came over the next day and they said the same thing. I didn't want to say I doubted that was what you were doing, but . . ." Colene trailed off.

"It's dangerous to be hiking, especially at a time like this, what with the war," said Jamie.

"Oh please, let's not talk about it! I don't want to think about poor Christophe and what horrors he's seen," Sophia said.

Ophelia drew her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her knees. The loose material on her cream blouse ruffled in the sharp wind. Her black corset dug into her chest.

"Everyone, calm down, you're going to talk her ear off," Nan teased. "She's allowed to have some privacy. It's not easy right now . . ." Ophelia appreciated Nan's help, but she stopped listening to what the girl said halfway through.

No, it wasn't exactly easy at the moment. For the past two days her mama kept to her books and the chapel. Papa was in the office most of the day or with his council. She couldn't find Camilla anywhere, although she was always in her bed when nighttime came, so Ophelia trusted she was safe in that regard. The elder princess felt her body prickle as the wind slapped her face. She felt like she was waiting for something to snatch her up, like a fox. Maybe the one Jamie wore wasn't completely dead.

Jamie's hand rested overtop hers. "Nan is right. It was inconsiderate of me to bombard you with a lecture. Please accept my forgiveness, Ophelia."

The girl caught Colene staring at Jamie's hand and removed it from Jamie's. "All is forgiven," she whispered.

The conversation started again, this time led by one of Sophia's adventures with her little nieces. Ophelia replayed the conversation she had with Nicholas the previous day instead.

 _Tell me something I don't know about you._

 _You hardly know anything to begin with._

 _Then you have lots to choose from._

 _As a child I had a friend no one else could see._

 _What was their name?_

 _Thomas. His mother and father died and he wandered in my backyard looking for garbage. I used to leave him a plate of scraps on the back steps._

 _Did your parents die when you were young?_

 _No. I wish they had._

 _That's a morbid thought._

 _Not everyone has the perfect childhood, Princess._

 _Do I have to scald you with hot water?_

 _No, not exactly. Now you should tell me something._

 _Oh really? What makes you think that?_

 _It's only fair._

 _Alright. Well, my favourite game when I was little was tea party._

 _Really?_

 _Yes. Is there something wrong with playing tea party?_

 _No, I just assumed you would have done something more . . . glamorous._

 _What's not glamorous about a tea party?_

 _I wouldn't know, I've never actually had one._

 _You're joking._

 _Do you see any remnants of sisters who would have forced me to partake in one?_

 _Just because you didn't have sisters doesn't mean you couldn't have had a tea party! You were in the castle for some time, didn't anyone ask you to come to one?_

 _I'm afraid invisible children aren't privileged to games with nobility._

 _Put down that dish._

 _Pardon me?_

 _We're having a tea party._

 _You can't be serious._

 _Does this look like the face of someone who is joking?_

 _Unfortunately not._

 _Come on, we have much to do. I think the garden would be a wonderful place to have a party._

 _Don't tea parties only really need, well, tea?_

 _If you're doing it wrong, yes._

 _I was afraid of that._

A raindrop fell onto her forehead and ran down the side of her face. She blinked and looked up at the sky. It appeared the clouds had finally released her from this awkward situation.

Sophia squeaked as one landed inside her navy blue dress on her back. She stood up and snatched the rhubarb pie off the blanket. "Grab the food, quick, before it gets wet!"

Ophelia took the loaf of bread along with the remaining hard boiled eggs. Jamie handed Sophia the block of cheese while Colene saved the last apple. Nan rolled up the blanket.

"We can go back to my place and finish this off, if you want," Colene offered. "Mother won't mind."

"So long as it's dry, I don't care!" Sophia replied.

Nan agreed it was a good idea and the lot were about to depart the field when they noticed Ophelia turn up the hood of her cloak.

"You're not coming?"

Ophelia shook her head. "I'd best get home and see if there's any word from my brothers."

"I'll walk you home," Jamie offered.

"That's really not necessary, Jamie, I-"

"Nonsense, anything could happen along the way. I'd feel much better if I joined you."

Ophelia narrowed her eyes and was about to tell Jamie just what she thought would happen if he bothered to trail her when Colene stepped in.

"Jamie, I'm sure Ophelia can handle herself just fine. She knows these woods better than anyone! Besides, my mother made an apple pie and I told her . . ."

That only seemed to harden Jamie's resolve. He walked over to Ophelia and placed a hand on her lower back. "I'll be back in time to have a slice, don't fret. See you all later!"

Sophia and Nan set off with the blanket over their heads, leaving their cousin to get rained on. Colene remained, watching Jamie guide Ophelia away from the picnic spot. The princess turned her head back towards the girl and shrugged. Colene scowled.

The silence between them was overcome by a crack of thunder. Ophelia wondered how Jamie's coat would last with the rain's assault, but she kept her gaze forward as she quickened her pace.

After a minute or two, Jamie sighed. "I hope Colene makes it back alright. The girls should have waited."

"She's not a delicate flower, Jamie. Neither am I, for that matter."

"Oh, I know, I know, but I just worry. Some women end up in a world of trouble when they get lost. Especially nowadays."

Without warning, Ophelia started to laugh. It started as a giggle then erupted into a laugh that made her have to clutch her belly, it ached so much.

Jamie stared at her as if she was mad. "What, may I ask, is so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just," she giggled, "I just find it amusing that you pretend to care so much about us."

The young man raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, pretend? I care very much for the both of you!"

"Really?" her laughter stopped. She stared at Jamie. "If you did, you would not toy with her so. You would not lie to me."

Jamie blinked. Ophelia started walking again. Her cloak was becoming heavy with the droplets.

"How have I toyed with her? I find her an enchanting woman, yes, but-"

"You find her even more enchanting when you're whispering sweet nothings in her ear, correct?"

He did not answer. The whites of his eyes grew larger and larger until she was sure they would roll out. She shook her head. "And here is where you lie to me."

Jamie caught up with her and seized her arm in his hand. "Stop grabbing me!" she screamed. "Stop with your presumptions! I am not yours, Jamie!"

"Listen to me, I have never lied to you. Colene—she is wonderful, but-"

"No, you do not get to pretend you don't care for her! You don't get to decide to pull out the 'I love you' card when it is convenient! That's not how it works."

"Would you let me finish?" he shouted as his grip tightened. Ophelia glared up at him and waited. The man sighed. "You do not get to tell me what my heart feels, my lady."

The princess slipped her arm from his grip. "If you felt love, you would not play with Colene's affections. You know how she has longed for you, even when we were young. What you do now is-"

"Is nothing worse than what you have been doing these past months. I have watched you avoid the village and wander through that blasted woods, and while I try to follow you, you are swallowed up by those trees and sounds. I know there is someone. I can see it in your eyes. You look . . . happy." Jamie narrowed his eyes. "Are you willing to die for love, Ophelia? Would you pay the ultimate sacrifice for this—this pauper in the woods? This man who hides from the world, from your family?"

"Why must death be the ultimate sacrifice? Why do you romantics turn to it as if it is the most sacred bond? Your father certainly didn't die for your mother!"

"But yours did! And I know if you asked him, he would do it again for her, and you."

Ophelia shook her head. "I don't require death," she whispered. "What good is a cold body on a winter night?"

Jamie's eyes widened. "You have—are you-"

She rolled her eyes. "Even if I had I would never tell you. No matter how you say you feel for me, there is nothing I would do to go back to how things were. Go to Colene and make her happy. Die for her. Love her. Do whatever it is you want." She turned on her heel. "I'll pretend we never had this conversation."

The wet grass slid underneath her shoes and she heard it crunch beneath Jamie's boots. "I still love you," he said.

"And there is a part of me that will always want you to."

With that, she picked up her skirts and headed home with dry eyes and a plan in mind.


	18. Chapter 17

It was bloody hot, wherever Damien was.

The darkness was back but the heat came as a shock. Every stumbled step caused him to cringe. What as he walking on, coals? The prince panted, inhaling heat and exhaling smoke. He thought flames were licking his skin, the raspy tongue almost reminding him of his cats. A garbled cry exited his lips as he tried to rip off his clothing. Why wouldn't the burning stop?

 _See what you've done, o'Prince? Death is all that waits for you._

God be good, no, not that voice. Vincent. Was this hell, then? From what he remembered of the priest's sermons, this was starting to fit the definition.

Damien pressed a hand against a solid surface and screamed. It felt like a giant ember had coated his palm in a burning ache.

His feet tripped over themselves as he grasped his hand to his chest. The floor scalded him but he couldn't get up.

 _All those children, do you remember them Prince? Do you? Do you remember their screams?_

Damien sobbed, his cries raspy with smoke. Yes, God help him yes he did and he wished he did not. Those babies, lives barely started, and he did not stop their deaths. How could he have let all this happen? It was supposed to be easy. Find Helena and come home safe. Damien's eyes burned as tears trickled from them. He could hear the hissing as they landed on the ground.

 _Mama, Papa, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to—I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I want a second chance. I can do better!_

The burning behind his lids only became worse. When he rubbed them, he shrieked. It was as if embers were hiding just behind the surface and every time he touched his lids there was only pain. Was that what his life, or whatever was left of it, was to be? He couldn't imagine this going on for eternity.

 _Sweet Cousin, you tried your best. I'll give you that. It was an admirable fight, but might I suggest you give up? Think of yourself, for a change. I'm sure that's all Henri was thinking of during the battle._

Damien shook his head. The floor burned his cheek but he didn't scream this time. Henri would not be so selfish. He must have seen Damien fall. This could only be a dream, a nightmare even. Henri would not let his own brother die.

He remembered a time in their childhood. An exploration in the wood. There were wolves. With bows and arrows the brothers defended themselves against the emaciated creatures. Damien felt Henri's back press against his, even now, and that jolt made him cry. That was a long time ago. Both were different people now. What if Helena's demonic voice was right?

 _It cannot be. You must fight this, Damien. You must. Get up. Get up!_

His voice, a younger, stronger version, screamed at him to move. Damien tried, but his knees buckled and he lost his balance. He attempted to open his eyes, but they were melted shut. The prince felt something nudge his leg.

 _Did you fight a war only to die a coward?_

When did his younger self become so bold? Damien clenched his hands into fists and propped himself up on all fours. He was panting, and every time he took a breath fire coiled around every muscle, but he forced himself further and further until he was almost standing. The burning wasn't even that noticeable by the time his toes started to clench the coals. He pressed his back against the wall and pushed himself up until he was completely straight. He could barely breathe, but by God he did it.

 _You are a bigger fool than I imagined, Cousin._

Something kicked behind his knees and sent him flying. He expected to hit the floor, but the thrust had been strong enough to propel him forward without touching the ground. The cavern, or whatever it was, started to shake. He thought the world was going to split open. As he was hurtled further and further from his original destination, he had a peculiar sensation that he was going to hit a wall. The prince took a deep breath and waited for the impact.

Through his shut eyes, he saw an overwhelmingly powerful light. It was so bright he thought the sun was trying to swallow him. The heat became worse and worse until he was sure his eyes had been burned away.

Something was pinning him down.

Damien thrashed about, his arms smacking someone in the chest.

"Sire, please! We're only trying to help."

He recognized that voice. One of his soldiers. What was their name, Tristin?

Another set of hands was holding his legs. The prince kicked whoever they were in the groin. He felt oddly satisfied by that. It was about at this time that he realized he couldn't see.

"What-" his voice was raw. The rest of what he wanted to say came out in an inaudible whisper.

"Sire, be still. The doctors-"

"Where's the prince? He could-"

"No, don't trouble him. He has enough to tend to. Sire, sire calm yourself. Everything is alright. You are safe. You're alive," said Tristin, possibly.

"See," Damien croaked.

Neither of the men present said a word.

"Henri!" Damien shouted as loud as he could. It ended in a horrid coughing fit that made the younger prince feel like he was back in that horrible room.

"Sire, please, listen to me! You must rest. You must-"

Damien heard footsteps and the clanking of armour brushing up against one another. A new hand grabbed his, this one wearing thick leather gloves. Close to his fingers were stitches. Damien felt them out and read the cursive.

"Henri," he whispered.

"I'm here Damien, I'm here. You're okay. You're safe, just like Tristin said." Henri squeezed his brother's hand gently. "You've had us worried, Brother. You've been asleep for three days."

"Three?" Damien whispered. He had been trapped in hell for that long?

"Yes, three."

"Where . . . are-"

"Hush, Brother, save your voice. I'll tell you all that has happened if you promise to be still and silent. Your wounds are grievous."

Damien nodded. He would do his best.

"Very well. We defeated that band of northerners that attacked us. Every northern lord is gone, or as good as gone. I sent Christophe with a sizable group to take care of one more town where a lord remains. After that, he will come home with the rest of the men. I have promised him a dukedom for all his work."

"Chip."

He knew Henri was frowning, but he had to ask.

"Chip is . . . he is in need of rest. One of the doctors is tending to him now. He will be fine. I am keeping track of his condition just like I was yours."

Damien nodded. He was about to ask about his sight when a better idea came to mind. He spelt the word on his brother's glove. It took the young man a minute, but finally he sighed.

"Damien you've . . . there are bandages over your eyes. We—the doctors know one is greatly damaged but are unsure of the other. To be safe, they are treating both."

The younger inhaled deeply, causing him to cough. Henri exhaled and squeezed Damien's hand. "The doctors say I should not say this, but . . . Brother I do not know if you will be able to see again. I—the duke, Vincent, he had a hand in this but I took care of him, I made sure of it. Now you need to rest, alright? I will be back to check on you."

Damien could feel Henri's hand leaving his and with all his strength he held on. "Don't . . . go," he begged.

Henri placed his other hand on Damien's forehead. "I have to keep guard with the others. We are almost home, Damien. Soon we will be with our family, I promise. And if—if I have any say it in, you _will_ see again."

The hands disappeared, leaving Damien feeling utterly alone. He tentatively raised a hand and brushed it over the thick bandages. So it was true, then. His throat tightened and a tear rolled down his cheek. The pain was incredible, but he did not cry out. Tristin reached over and wiped the liquid with a handkerchief.

"Best not to cry, Sire. Could make it worse."

Damien gave a quick nod. The road they travelled on was uncomfortably bumpy, to the point where every jolt made the prince cringe. What else had been damaged in the battle? He tried to lift his left arm, but could not without a shock of pain made him dizzy. His legs were weak, he could tell that just by the bumps. The backs of his calves were scraped raw against the blanket he was covered in. He wondered what happened to his supplies. Were they still back in that ransacked campsite?

 _I would give anything for my thick blanket right now. Mama made it—it was so nice . . ._

He was startled by how easily his thoughts trailed off. What was wrong with him?

 _What did the doctors give me?_

"Tristin," he whispered.

"Yes Sire?"

"Time?"

"Half past seven Sire. Just after sundown. Prince Henri has instructed us to travel through the night. We should reach the castle by dawn."

 _What a ramshackle group we will be. I can't imagine how this will go over._ In response to the knight, the prince nodded.

"Medicine."

Tristin cleared his throat. "The doctors don't want to give you too much, in case of the, well, effects, but I can get someone over to the carriage if you like."

"Please."

He heard the young man hop off the cart and his footsteps as they weaved through the party of soldiers. Damien took a deep breath, using all his strength to tap the other knight with his foot.

"Who?"

"Me Sire? I be one of Magdalene's men. Prince Henri instructed me to stay with you at all times."

Damien nodded.

"How . . . is . . . she?"

"Magdalene, Sire? Oh, fit as a fiddle to be sure. She took a few bumps to the head, but nothing serious. She was in a cart for about an hour before she was back on the saddle alongside the prince."

He remembered her struggling just before the attack by Vincent. A part of him almost hoped she had sustained some injury, but the rest of him was glad she had not. He didn't want to think about all the soldiers they lost that day.

"Dead?"

"Dead, Sire?"

"Many?"

"Oh, you mean soldiers! Beg pardon, Sire, I'm a little slow right now. Haven't had much sleep. That Tristin of yours is a lousy knight, but a good page. Always running around for other people, doing errands." He cleared his throat. "To answer your question. We lost a good many, Sire. Those northerners are tricksters." Damien heard the knight spit outside the cart. "Good riddance to the lot o'them. But ours be with God now. They fought hard. Those that survived are heroes."

Damien nodded. _We're just lucky._

"Reward?"

"Are you asking if _I_ want a reward?"

Damien nodded.

The man laughed. "For doing my duty? Nah, Sire, I be content with what I have. My son will be proud just to see his father come back alive. My sister's been watching him since his mother died. Perhaps I'll do some travelling with him, now that this is all done with. I've always wondered what is across that big, blue ocean." The man stopped suddenly. "Beg pardon, Sire. You don't want to hear the dreams of old men."

Damien tried to smile. "Don't . . . apologize."

"Ah, there comes Tristin now. The doctor will fix you up with something good. He's one of the better ones."

The prince nodded. He felt two new bodies rock the cart. He tried to grab hold of the side but he couldn't grip anything anymore.

"What a blessing, Sire. So good to see you awake. We were concerned. Now, what's this I hear about you needing medicine?"

"Pain," he whispered. "Much. Pain."

"Ah yes, unfortunately that's to be expected. The only thing I have is nectar of the willows. It should help with the pain."

"Give. Please."

"Right away, Sire. Tristin, be a good fellow and gently lift up the prince's head so he may swallow."

Damien felt a smaller set of hands guide his head up until it rested against what he assumed was Tristin's chest.

"Very good. Now open your mouth, Sire. That's a good chap. Make sure to get all of it now, we want the full effect."

The liquid was cool, a welcome relief to the constant burn, but it was bitter too. Damien drank it all the same. Tristin placed his head back on the pillow.

"Excellent. That should put you right to sleep."

When he heard that Damien thought of the heat, of darkness. He tried to sit up again, tried to say something to the doctor, but Tristin's hands were on him again, urging him down.

"Sire, you need to rest. The medicine will work in a few seconds."

"No! Don't. Sleep."

"Sire, your body needs to heal. Sleep is the only way," the doctor explained. "You will be just fine, I am sure. Tristin, please let me know when he wakes again. We'll check his wounds then."

The exchange of words started to get muddied and Damien fought as hard as he could, but he could feel his limbs relax. His breathing slowed down as the cart started rocking him. He was almost asleep when the scent of smoke greeted him.

 _Dear God not again,_ he prayed silently, then fell asleep.


	19. Chapter 18

Ophelia clutched her mother's hand as the castle gate opened. She watched alongside her mother while soldiers filed in, either in groups or singular. Those that could walk stood tall with their chins jutted forward. She saw their hardness and cringed. She wondered what parts of the battle had killed their softness. She wondered if it could be restored.

Her queen mother donned grey that morning. She remembered sitting on her parents' bed beneath the red curtains. She had studied her mother's closet and recalled watching her pick out the grey skirts and bodice. The idea of wearing black was too somber, but a brighter colour wouldn't be appropriate, or so Belle said to her eldest daughter.

Now, the women stood off to the side, watching the proceedings. Camilla stuck close to her sister, her head nestled against Ophelia's waist. The elder wrapped her free arm around the girl's shoulders and ran her hand back and form in a soothing motion. Where were her brothers?

First to appear was Henri on horseback. He vaulted off his horse as soon as he spotted his king. Emmanuel chose to remain at the far end of the courtyard, his hands folded behind his back. He too wore grey, but paired it with gold to go along with his crown.

Ophelia openly stared at her brother. His hair was still unruly, but in an unsettling sort of way. The tangles went well past his shoulders and the scruff lining his jaw caused him to age a number of years. The princess saw the stains on his armour, mostly blood she suspected. His horse frothed at the mouth, its exhaustion overwhelming. She heard Raoul whimper at her feet.

Henri marched over to the king and bent down on one knee before his father. Ophelia could not catch the words exchanged, for there were too many people separating her from the men, but she could only guess what Henri was saying. Emmanuel nodded and helped his son stand where after they embraced before the crowd. She saw relief on her father's face.

 _He is pleased with something. Did we win?_

Or was he merely happy he still had one son?

Ophelia looked back to the carriages coming through the gate. There was where the injured were. The dead . . . they had been buried on the battle ground, or so the messenger sent ahead claimed. He did not mention if Damien lived, only that he had been hurt, as had Chip.

Chip, sweet Chip. Ophelia's throat contracted. She swallowed the lump and searched for his wooden carriage. Surely he was still alive. She couldn't imagine losing a brother and a friend.

Finally, the carts stopped and everyone was silent, even the horses. Emmanuel let go of his son and addressed the crowd.

"Today ends what will be known as the Battle of the North. From this day forward there will be peace within the lands. All those who fought are heroes, and our hearts go out to those we have lost. The crown thanks all who protected the kingdom and will see to it a proper reward is given to the families. Lord Cogsworth has been placed in charge of said reward and over the next few weeks will see to the exchange." He placed an arm around Henri's shoulder and pulled out his long sword. "Tomorrow morning, all those who showed acts of valor shall be knighted in front of open court. Lord Cogsworth will now read the names of all who are to receive the honour."

Cogsworth, in black and gold, waddled over to where the king stood. He unraveled a long sheet of parchment and began listing off the names. Ophelia ignored the drone of his voice and stood on her tip toes to try and see which cart her brother could be in. Camilla tugged on her yellow skirt.

"Where's Damien?" she asked quietly.

Ophelia licked her lips, avoiding the girl's gaze. "He's here, Lila, I'm sure he is."

Belle agreed as she brushed aside a loose, dark curl.

The last name was read and Cogsworth stepped back. Emmanuel stared at the crowd. "To take control over the north to make sure such a thing never happens, a selected group will become lords tomorrow as well. Such names will be given in private after everyone has been tended to. The castle is yours for the day, and night, to rest and rejuvenate yourself before you are to return home to your duties. Once again, my thanks goes out to all of you, especially my sons, who lead you all so bravely," he squeezed Henri's shoulder, "and to Lady Magdalene, for her additional support."

A cheer went up among the group and just like that, it was done. Belle left her daughter's side almost immediately and ran to her eldest child. Henri smiled at his mother and hugged her tightly, picking her up off the ground. Ophelia smiled at the embrace but went back to her search for Damien. As the crowd started to part, the princess had a better idea of where to go. She bent down and kissed Camilla's forehead.

"Go say hello to Henri, alright Petite?"

The little girl nodded and left the elder's side, her navy skirts brushing over the gravel.

Princess Ophelia brought a hand up to shield her eyes from the rising sun as she walked into the crowd. Most men, she noticed, seemed rather healthy. She remembered the messenger from the night before explaining how most of the soldiers, ones that could be spared at least, had to take care of one more lord before they could return. Of those men included Christophe. Ophelia wondered if Sophia knew of her sweetheart's destination.

She received a few bows as she weaved her way through the men, but she didn't notice any of the words they said. She thought to ask of where her brother was, but the idea of being told he was dead was not something she wanted to think of at the moment.

She didn't imagine there being this many carts last night. Thankfully, not all of them were filled with the injured. The princess spotted various pots and pans, blankets, kettles, and other charred particles left over from their camp inside some carts.

Near the back was where she found Damien. It appeared he was resting although she couldn't tell with the bandages. She placed a hand over her mouth when she saw how battered he was.

 _Dear God, what happened to you?_

She didn't glance at the two men in the cart with him. The princess climbed over the side and knelt to her brother's left. She ran a finger over his arm and marveled at the burn patterns. She glanced at his other arm and was glad to see it only had a few cuts. His trousers, or what remained of them, were charred and his legs bandaged. She looked up at the knight who sat nearest the prince.

"What happened to him?"

The young man, barely sixteen by the looks of his frequent freckles, swallowed. "He was—well the prince was fighting a duke but the man cheated, grabbed a torch see and-"

Ophelia shook her head. She could imagine the rest. "And his sight?"

"Gone. Maybe. But I'm—fine."

The princess stared at her brother. She let out the breath she had been holding. "At least you're alive," she whispered. She attempted to hug him, but pulled back when he whimpered. Ophelia swallowed the lump in her throat and ran a hand through his matted hair. "Oh Damien," she sighed.

"What happened, Damien?" Camilla asked as she crawled over the side of the cart.

He turned his head, trying to find where she sat. Ophelia took Camilla's hand.

"I had—an accident. But don't—worry. Lila. I'll be just. Fine," he said, taking a deep breath afterward. He started to cough and Ophelia gave his hand a squeeze.

The princess spotted her parents coming over along with Henri. She stared at her other brother and gave him a strained smile. "Good to see you again, Henri," she said quietly.

The elder gave a nod. "Good to be here. Damien, how are you feeling?"

"Fine. Just—fine. Everyone stop—worrying."

"I will always worry about you, Damien, it's my job as your mother," said Belle. She leaned over and pressed a cool palm to his cheek. "We'll get you inside and into bed. The doctors will look over you and there are some medicines they will give you which I'm sure will help-"

"No. No—medicine," Damien interrupted, his voice forceful.

Emmanuel shook his head. "We'll talk of that later, son." He waved a hand. Four men came with a stretcher covered in pillows and blankets. "See to it that my son is taken to his chambers. Be as careful as you can. I do not want him to be injured worse."

The men bowed. "Yes, Sire," they said in unison.

Henri lifted his sisters out of the carriage one by one. Camilla hung back with her parents as Damien was transferred onto the stretcher. Ophelia remained beside Henri.

"What happened?"

He lowered his gaze. "We were attacked at night. It—there was nothing we could do but fight back. I tried to help, but I had my own attackers to worry about."

Ophelia shook her head. "And Helena? Where is she?"

Henri sighed. "Vanished. Her husband helped her escape, remember? Even our best tracking hounds lost the scent after a few days. We're still searching though. I won't give up until she is made to answer for these crimes."

The princess didn't want Helena to "answer" for anything.

 _I want her to burn._

Ophelia shook her head, casting aside such a dark thought. "And Chip, what of him? Is he just as bad?"

"Unfortunately. A tree caught fire and fell on him. He did not burn badly, but his leg was trapped for some time. The doctors say . . ." he trailed off.

Ophelia narrowed her eyes. "Tell me."

Henri sighed. "He might lose his leg."

The princess nodded. "How are you fairing?"

The prince shrugged. "Well enough, compared to some." He smiled at her. "It is good to see you again, Sister. I almost feared I never would."

They exchanged a hug, then the prince had to part. "I have some things I need to take care of, like a bath for one," he chuckled. She agreed and watched him leave the courtyard. That was when she noticed most people had exited the grounds. Some dogs sniffed for scraps, a few ravens hung around the rafters, and here or there servants were gathering leftover supplies that had fallen from the carts. The princess saw her parents filing through the door with Camilla. She ran over to catch up with them.

"Has someone told Mrs. Potts and Grandpa?" she asked.

Belle nodded. "Yes dear, I sent a message to them last night. I expect they will be here soon."

"Where is Chip?"

Emmanuel pointed to the hallway going right. "I've placed him in one of our finer chambers for the duration of his recovery. I believe Josephine is in there now changing his bandages."

The princess did not want to mention what she knew of his condition. Instead she nodded. "May I go for a walk in the country? I need some time to . . . think."

Her parents nodded. "Just be careful. Don't forget to take Raoul with you," said Belle.

Camilla let go of her mother's hand. "May I go too?"

Ophelia shook her head. "Not today, Camilla. Perhaps Chip would like some company?"

At the prospect of seeing the elder, Lila's eyes brightened. "May I, Mama?"

Belle agreed and both princesses left their parents. Ophelia suspected they were going to have a chat with the doctors and likely wouldn't notice how long their daughter was gone for. She whistled for Raoul who was, as she guessed, playing with the courtyard dogs. He bounded over and followed her lead as they exited the castle grounds.

Ophelia heard the ticking clock when she entered Nicholas' manor. She suspected he was still asleep, or at least hoped he was. Raoul went into the sitting room and settled on the couch, taking up all three cushions. The princess stepped around the long, thick table centered in the room and started a fire. Her dog sighed as he started to fall asleep. She wondered just how old Raoul was. She couldn't recall what age they decided he was when he saved her. Perhaps such a lengthy trek on a daily basis wasn't the smartest idea.

 _He might be happier staying at Nicholas' the whole time._ But how would she explain his whereabouts to her parents?

Ophelia shook her head and headed into the kitchen. Now was not the time for such thoughts. She needed breakfast.

As she started the fire and searched for her desired ingredients, her thoughts wandered to the man upstairs. Since her encounter with Jamie, she hadn't made up her mind on what to do, not really. The original plan was to explain to Nicholas how she was fond of him, but that idea was squashed when they got into an argument over what to feed the birds (were mice sufficient or should rats be found instead?).

And yet the thought of him near still made her unrealistically happy. She tossed a handful of flour onto the counter with a smirk. Perhaps he still thought of her as a pest. Then what? Jamie's question still rolled around in her head. Would she die for Nicholas? After seeing what good death did, she didn't think she could say yes. Then what did that say about her? Was she as heartless as Jamie appeared to think?

 _What does it matter what Jamie thinks? I told him he was Colene's and that's how it's going to stay. Besides, I have better things to think about._

Still, it was nice to be in this house. She could pretend whatever was going on at the castle wasn't actually part of her life. On more than one occasion, especially during the tea party, she pretended she was like her friends. She pretended she was raised in a village and her only concern was what to make for the next meal, or how to get more money to finance that add-on Nicholas mentioned once. She usually stopped herself right there. She had no business to worry about Nicholas' financial concerns. However he got his money, he would be just fine.

Over an hour later, the bread was ready. She left the backdoor open when she went to grab vegetables from the garden. When she came back inside with a full basket ready to be put in the soup, she was overwhelmed by an urge to cry. She took a deep breath and placed the basket on the table. As she fiddled with the pot on the stove, she imagined her brother in his bed. God help her but she had never seen him look so weak. What if he never could see again? And what about Chip? How would he make a life for himself if he couldn't walk? She shut her eyes as she dumped the vegetables in the pot.

Worse still, what if one of them died? Infections were easy to catch, especially on the road. It could already be attacking them, but you couldn't duel with a disease.

Ophelia leaned her back against the counter and cut open a peach. Perhaps she was overreacting. Everything would be fine. She was fine.

"You're here early," Nicholas said as he leaned against the doorframe. His hair stuck up on all ends, and she noticed that, for once, his cream shirt was untucked. He hadn't bothered with boots yet and his brown trousers clung to his ankles.

Ophelia nearly nicked herself with the knife. "I thought you could use breakfast," she explained as she avoided his stare. She could feel it though, running from her downcast eyes to her hands that, suddenly, couldn't stop shaking.

His steps, shuffled as they were, made quick business of the distance between them. He took the knife from her hand and placed it on the counter. He rested one hand on the counter while the other took a peach slice from her.

"Food ready?"

The princess nodded.

"I have a place we could eat. A different place than the kitchen."

She raised her head and squinted at him. "Where?"

Nicholas smirked. "You'll see. Grab two bowls of soup. I'll take the bread."

Ophelia didn't move for a moment, then reached behind her into the cupboard. Once the bowls were full, she followed his lead up the staircase.

When she saw him open his bedroom door, she thought he was playing a trick on her. She was about to ask just that when she saw him go to the pulley system. He went over and stood on the plank of wood. His hands grabbed on to the rope and she watched as he pulled himself up to the upper level of his bedroom. It didn't take long for him to climb over the wooden edge. He released the rope, letting the wood fall back down just a few inches off the ground.

"Are you coming?"

Ophelia gave a nod and wondered how she would do this with soup. "What about-"

"There's a basket beside you. Put those in there. When you pull on the rope, the basket will come with you."

The princess nodded again and did as she was told. It was surprisingly easy, once she got used to it. She was more proud of the fact that the soup didn't spill. Nicholas held onto the rope as she pulled herself over the edge with the basket. She reached into the basket but as she was about to grab the soup, she got distracted by what laid before her.

The wooden floor was covered in old quilts. Many were of the same pattern and colours, but a few stood out in the dim lighting. One was a bright purple with pink splotches here and there. Another she swore was in the pattern of a daisy.

All the walls were plain in colour, but held a host of paintings. These too looked aged, but not as much as the quilts. Many held scenes of country life, including fields and barns with animals, even a young boy walking over a river on a log bridge. She saw further in the back there were many more paintings, but it appeared the walls were not big enough to hold them all. She wondered if he sometimes switched them out like they did at the castle.

Pillows were on the ground too. Ophelia noticed how the stitching was coming apart on some. For the most part they matched the quilts.

"Does this satisfy your curiosity?" Nicholas asked.

She nodded. "For now."

Nicholas chuckled as he grabbed the bread. He walked, hunched over, to a cluster of pillows against the north wall. Beside him she spotted a stack of books.

Ophelia took out the bowls and placed them before him while she grabbed her own pillows. A blue one with little embroidered stars was her first pick. She crossed her legs as she reached for a brown patchwork one. As she sat, it felt more like she was on a mattress than a hard floor. How many quilts were piled here?

Nicholas grabbed the first bowl and took a few sips before looking back at the princess. "Aren't you going to ask where these all came from?"

The princess took her bowl and shrugged. "Do you want me to?"

He shrugged. "I was more or less expecting it."

She didn't answer. He seemed to be waiting for something, or at least that was what his stare suggested. Finally, he began eating again. A few minutes later, he ripped off a section of steaming bread and dunked it into the bowl.

"My elder sister was a painter. She had a keen eye for detail. It could have made her a lot of money, if people were more inclined to buy from a woman artist," Nicholas said. He pointed to one behind Ophelia's head, the one with the boy on the log. "That's me when I was five and a half. She was following me."

Ophelia smirked. "Did your parents give you hell when they saw it?"

He chuckled. "As a matter of fact, they did. It was really Renee who took the brunt of it though. She was a good sister."

"I thought you didn't have a sister. What happened to her?"

Nicholas took a sip. "Died. She ran off with the intent to sell her paintings in Paris. Along the way, a group of men attacked her. She was—brutalized. She came home a week later and when my father heard what happened, he beat her. Said no one would have her now, so what was the point in keeping her around. She hung herself in the barn." He pointed to another painting. "That one, to be exact."

Ophelia took a bite of her bread. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Nicholas narrowed his eyes as she stared at that barn. "I wanted to kill him," he muttered. "She didn't deserve any of what she got."

The princess nodded. She watched as his hands became fists at his sides. She suddenly understood why he wanted his parents dead at a young age.

"Who made these quilts and pillows?"

Nicholas looked back at her and she saw the anger slowly vanish from his face. "Uncle Julian. He preferred cross stitching to crossbows, although surprisingly enough, he was good with both. Never married, that one. My father always claimed he was too stupid to love. He was wrong though. Julian just preferred different company."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Nicholas slurped the rest of his soup and gave her a smirk. "Julian loved his best friend Marcus. Would have married him too, if he could have. The sweating sickness took him though, when I got back from the battle."

"Is that how you acquired all his work? And your sister's?"

He shrugged. "Mostly. I asked Julian to hold on to her things when I moved to the palace for work. He stored them away in his attic where they collected dust. When I found out he died, I went to collect them. Marcus was waiting for me. He was like an uncle to me, a good fellow. I think he's gone now too. Anyhow, I ordered a cart and packed up as much as I could. Marcus kept a few pieces to remember Julian by, but he let me keep the rest. Most of the furniture in this house is Julian's."

Ophelia nodded. She brought her knees up to her chest and smiled. "It sounds so interesting. I would have liked to have met Julian I think. And your sister, to be sure."

Nicholas nodded. His gaze fell to his bowl. "She would have liked you."

Neither said anything for a moment. She stared up at the paintings, spotting hints of young Nicholas here and there. She wondered when exactly he moved to the palace, but she didn't want to ask. He shared parts of his life she hadn't dreamed he would. It made her feel happy, at least for a time.

"You're going to be okay, you know."

Ophelia glanced at him. "I'm fine," she stated.

Nicholas stared at her. "It will pass, the pain. You're going to be okay."

She narrowed her eyes. "Stop saying that," she whispered. "I'm fine."

He watched her and as he did her mind was flooded with those images again. Damien, her sweet brother . . . Chip . . . she felt her throat contract. She couldn't swallow away the tears this time. She bent her head forward and felt the tears trickle down her cheeks.

"I'm," she gasped, "fine."

She heard the clinking of bowls. There was a shuffling of blankets nearby and without warning she felt Nicholas' arm wrap around her shoulders. She opened her mouth, trying to tell him he didn't need to treat her like an invalid, but instead she let out a sob.

Nicholas used his arm to drag her closer towards him. Her cheek pressed against his nightshirt and she felt her body being forced into a lying position as Nicholas leaned back against his nest of pillows. The young man used his other arm to rub her back while she cried.

 _You were right about everything, Nicholas_ , she thought. _War is man's greatest mistake._

 _"Would it be alright if Raoul spent the night here? The constant trek from here to the palace is waning on him and-"_

 _"He can stay." Nicholas propped himself up on one elbow, his hair mussed. "You want to use the guest room?"_

 _Ophelia shook her head. "No, I need to head home. My parents could need me for something." She sat up from the cluster of pillows and made a quick braid with her hair._

 _"Will I see you tomorrow?"_

 _She paused. "Yes, of course, why wouldn't you?"_

 _He avoided her gaze. "Nothing I just—be careful. On the way home."_

 _Ophelia leaned over and kissed his cheek._

Ophelia shook her head as she entered the castle. Despite the unexpected onslaught of tears, she couldn't complain about her day. Nicholas was surprisingly gentle with her as she cried. His attic was quite an interesting place, when you got to look at it more closely. Reading books and napping was much more fun surrounded by paintings.

The princess spotted Josephine with a tray balanced in one hand and a kettle in the other. Her hair was loose in its bun and Ophelia wondered if she had sat down since this morning.

"Josephine!"

The blonde woman turned her head and sighed. "Oh, it is you Ophelia. I thought it was Madame Potts. She has been on me about Chip and his care since she got here." She leaned over and pecked the princess' cheeks. "How have you been?"

Ophelia smiled. "Quite alright, could be worse. How is Chip, and my brother?"

Josephine lowered her gaze. "Oh Princess I—I have never seen such injuries. I keep praying for them. I do not doubt your mother is in the chapel now."

"What of my father, and Henri?"

"Henri, I think he is with his men in the hall. He was with Damien for a time, but I believe he is celebrating the end of his horrible mess. And the king . . . the king is likely asleep. He has had a long day."

The princess nodded. "Good. No one asked for me, did they?"

Josephine smirked. "No one noticed you were missing all day, if that's what you mean. Besides me of course."

"I hoped so. You had best get back to Chip, I have kept you long enough."

Josephine sighed. "I suppose you are right. Madame Potts and your grandfather are spending the night by his side, or so it seems." She turned on her heel and was about to head off when she paused. "Oh, before I forget, you have visitors awaiting you in your chambers."

"Visitors?"

"Yes, I believe they came after dinner."

Ophelia wanted to ask who they were, but Josephine was gone before she could. The princess ran the rest of the way to her room and was greeted by her friends asleep on her bedroom floor. Cards were in the middle of the semi-circle. Jamie and Colene were on one side curled up together while Sophia and Nan were across from them. The princess smiled at the site and cleared away the cards. She grabbed as many blankets off her bed as she could and laid them on the ground. She managed to fit between Nan and Sophia and that was where she fell asleep soon after.


	20. Chapter 19

"Sire, are you sure you wish to have the bandages removed now? Perhaps waiting a few more days-"

"Tristin, I asked you to fetch the doctor, not be my voice of reason. Now please, locate the man for me."

Damien heard the young knight's footsteps clomp across the hardwood then the door shut quietly. The prince sighed. For days he had been cooped up in his stuffy room. Just yesterday he managed to convince Tristin to open the window, but during the night it was shut again and he hadn't gotten it propped up yet.

Melissa rubbed against his uncovered arm as she purred. Damien lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her soft fur.

"At least you haven't changed," he muttered.

When he arrived home, Damien expected a fast healing. In that time, he hoped there wouldn't be much of a fuss made. Things hadn't gone as expected to say the least.

Damien was tired of being trapped in bed. He didn't want to deal with this constant, dull pain but the only time he wasn't was when he was asleep, and when he slept there were those horrid dreams. He had peace when he had people to talk to, but he didn't want to seem needy. Henri visited every day, but from what Tristin said, the elder was busy with his friends, including Magdalene. Belle came around almost too often, but Damien didn't complain. She read to him constantly and when she did, he sometimes fell asleep. Those naps didn't always end in nightmares, thankfully.

His father talked politics whenever he came by. It was refreshing to get back to what he did best. It would, however, be easier to give informed opinions on the documents if he could actually see them. Ophelia and Camilla were around often, Camilla more so than the elder girl. He kept asking where she went, but she only replied with walks. He didn't believe her, but there wasn't much he could do here in this bed.

Damien sighed. He just wanted to get well. _If I get these bandages off and started moving around, perhaps then things will be alright._

Where was Tristin? He recalled the boy's appointment as Damien's guide and wondered what the boy did to earn the position. The prince didn't doubt Tristin was useful, but he suspected Henri suggested he be at Damien's side just so Henri wouldn't have to worry about him so much.

 _If he worries he should visit more._

The door opened and a cluster of voices greeted him.

"Damien, what's this about you wanting those bandages off?" asked his mother.

"I thought we agreed to listen to the doctor's instructions," his father added.

"We did, but the pain has lessened and I am tired of being an invalid."

"You're hardly that, Brother. You've improved a great deal since we arrived home. But perhaps were shouldn't rush things," said Henri

"I'm hardly rushing anything. And need I remind you, you're not the one stuck in this God forsaken room all day."

"If this is what he wants, we should at least give it a chance. After all, if his eyes are . . . in need of more healing, we can simply put the bandages back on, can't we?" Ophelia asked.

"I agree with Ophelia," said Sophia.

"Hush, Sophia, we shouldn't even be here!" whispered Colene.

"You can be here if you desire, Lady Colene. Now where is the doctor?"

"I'm here, Sire." The man's footsteps were muddled by his dragging cloak. Damien heard a bottle be placed on the table beside the bed. "Sir Tristin, could you be of some assistance?"

"Of course." The young man jogged over, bumping into the bed. Melissa hissed at the shock. Damien smirked as he heard the boy's gasp.

He heard the clink of metal and suspected that was from a blade. "Now, don't move please Sire. This blade is only for cutting through a piece. After that, I will unravel the rest."

Damien nodded. The blade made a quick slash then he felt the bandages start to fall away. After not having opened his eyes for some time, it was hard to pry them open, but as the world became clearer, the temptation became stronger. Light started to flood in and when he opened one eye, he shut it immediately. Much too bright. He tried again. This time there wasn't just light, but colours as well, blotches at first, but slowly they became shapes. He saw his parents at the foot of his bed, smiling at him. Ophelia was in the back with not only Sophia and Colene, but Nan and Lumiere's son as well. Camilla sat by his bed on the windowsill, watching the doctor inspect Damien's face for sores. Henri stood beside his littlest sister with a wary gaze. So far, so good. He exhaled and opened his right eye.

He waited for the blurs to become solid lines, but after waiting for over a minute, nothing happened. He tried to rub it, but the doctor gently grabbed his hand.

"Let me look, Sire."

Damien bit down on the inside of his cheek and waited some more. He let the doctor prod his eye with his fingers until, after too much waiting, the doctor stepped away, his grey eyes unfocused. The elder man went over to the king and queen. His muttered words didn't reach the prince, but he knew what they said.

 _I won't be able to see out of this eye again._

The doctor turned back to the prince. "Sire, you won't need bandages anymore. You should spend the next month resting though, to gain your strength."

Damien just nodded. He sat up straighter in his bed as the headboard dug into his back.

"I left you nectar of the willow for later, Sire. I trust Tristin will make sure it doesn't walk away?"

Tristin nodded. Damien glanced at him. He looked much younger than his voice hinted.

The doctor bowed. "I will leave you then. If you need anything, Tristin shall find me in Chip's chamber." With that, the slender man left. Damien stared at his lap.

Henri cleared his throat. "I'd best be going. The hunt is likely to start soon and-"

"Henri," Belle chided. "Your brother needs you."

"Go," Damien said. "He can go."

The younger felt the elder's stare then heard his footsteps as he left. Damien drew his knees up closer to his chest and rested his arms against them.

The mattress dipped and he felt Camilla's slender arms around his neck. "I like you better without bandages," she whispered.

Damien gave a weak smile. "Thank you," he muttered. "Perhaps you should find some flowers to brighten up the room. Now that I can look at it," he said.

The princess smiled and kissed his cheek. "Okay. Roses?"

Damien nodded. When she was gone, he waited for his parents to say something.

"We'll—do you need anything, Son?" Emmanuel asked.

"No. You can go, Father. All of you may leave. I would like some time alone."

Belle bit her lip. "Are you sure, Damien? Would you like some soup for lunch, I can fetch some if you'd like-"

"Mother, please!" Damien squeezed his eyes shut. "Please leave."

He heard them leave, his acute hearing suddenly welcomed, and when he opened his eyes, Sophia was just exiting.

"Lady Sophia, about your brothers. How are they fairing?"

The woman paused in the doorway. He noticed her hair was unbound but the colour of her gown was hidden in the shadows of his chamber. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"My eldest has died, Sire. Your brother says he was killed by a northern lord." She lowered her gaze. "My other brother still lives, praise God."

Damien swallowed as his cheeks lit up. "I am deeply sorry, Lady Sophia. I did not-"

She smiled. "It is fine, your grace. I am just happy this is over." She curtseyed. "I hope your health improves as well."

The prince nodded then watched her shut the door behind her. He leaned the back of his head against the headboard and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Damien," Ophelia said.

He hadn't realized she was still there. "Shouldn't you be with your friends?"

Ophelia walked over to his bed, her long, violet skirts dragging behind her. He noticed she wasn't wearing shoes. "They can entertain themselves for a while. They haven't really left my side since this whole thing ended." She sat beside him on the large bed. "Do you want to talk?"

He looked away from her, his long, greasy hair framing his face. Damien's nose crinkled. He needed a bath.

"Not about this." He glanced at her from the corner of his good eye. "You're different, but you're not."

She tilted her head to the side. Her braid, likely done by Nan, hung over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I don't know. I can't think right now. I just," he pressed his palm against his forehead as it throbbed. "You should go. It isn't polite for a princess to keep her friends waiting."

Ophelia sighed and got off the bed. "You sure you don't need anything?"

"I am."

She nodded then left the room.

"Tristin," Damien said.

"Yes, Sire?"

"Find me a cane."

"A cane, Sire?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?"

"No, Sire, it's just—well—I thought you were supposed to stay in bed?"

"I've been in this confounded thing long enough. I need to see if my bones still hold me together."

Tristin stepped away from the side of Damien's bed and headed to the door. Once he was alone, Damien squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hands against the closed lids.

 _Please let me see, please let me see!_

He kept his left eye shut, but all he saw was blurry, just like before. The prince groaned and smacked his head.

 _Damn it!_

Ten minutes later, Tristin returned with an old cane that had a duck head on the top. It didn't look strong enough to hold much weight, but hopefully it would get the job done.

"Bring it to me."

Tristin lingered by the door. Damien narrowed his eyes. "Do I have to get it from you?"

The young man shuffled forward and extended the cane, duck first. Damien tossed back the covers after taking the wood. Burn marks still remained on his legs, but they weren't as bright as before. Still, they ached, and he wondered if they would scar. The prince hesitantly drew his feet out from underneath the covers and swung them over the edge of the bed. He placed the end of the cane on the ground and shifted his weight forward until he was almost standing. With a final push of his hand, he was up. His knees knocked together and he thought he would fall, but the cane held better than expected. Damien gripped it until his knuckles were white, forcing himself to remain standing. After a minute or two, he wasn't so afraid of falling. He began his trek to the door.

"Where are you going, Sire?"

"To see a friend. Have a bath sent here in an hour."

Tristin nodded. Damien suspected the boy was going to run off and tell the king and queen as soon as Damien left, but he didn't care. So long as he was out of that room, he was happy.

It took longer than he would have hoped to reach Chip's room. Along the way many stared at him, mostly servants, but he ignored them. He suspected he would have to get used to strange looks. Perhaps he should have combed his hair before leaving.

The door to Chip's room was half-open. When he nudged it open further with his foot, he saw only Josephine was inside. Damien wondered where his grandfather was.

The maid leaned over the bed and was dabbing something on Chip's sleeping face. Her black outfit was wrinkled and with the sleeves rolled up he saw her pale skin bathed in the light coming in from the large windows. The blue curtain around Chip's bed was drawn on one side while the one closest to Josephine remained open, likely so she could tend to him easier. The bed itself was covered in blankets and pillows, an abundance under Chip's leg specifically. The rest of the room looked similar to the other castle rooms with a large dresser, desk, and fireplace.

Damien's cane made a steady _thunk_ against the carpet as he made his way over to the bed. Josephine looked up from her work and gasped.

"Damien, I did not think you would be up yet! You look-"

"Awful, I know. Spare me the astonishment." He hoisted himself onto the raised mattress and made himself comfortable, resting his cane against his leg. "How is he?"

Josephine stared at Chip. Damien's eyes followed and he was pleased Chip's face was untouched by fire or sword. "Better, your grace. He is in good health, besides his leg."

Damien nodded. "What were you wiping on his face as I came in?"

The maid glanced at her hand that held a cloth. "Oh, this? Madame Potts said he felt feverish this morning. Before she left she instructed me to put a cold cloth on his head and call the doctor. He doesn't have a fever, I knew that when I brought him breakfast."

"Then why bother with the cloth?"

She smiled. "He had some jam on his mustache. I was trying to get it off without him noticing."

Damien smirked. "Well, I guess we can't expect him to be clean."

Josephine nodded. "And you, Sire? How are you feeling?"

He stared at the duck head and sighed. "Fine, I suppose. You will hear of my condition later, no doubt."

She tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean, Sire?"

Damien shook his head. "Nothing, nothing. If you would be so kind as to leave us alone, I would like to spend some time with my friend."

Josephine nodded with a curtsey. "Of course, Sire. Is there anything I can bring you?"

"No, thank you. Make sure you eat something. You could use a rest."

She bobbed her head then left. Damien shifted his body to look at his friend and sighed.

"You know, you have the worst timing possible," Chip muttered.

Damien smirked. "I knew you were awake."

"I wasn't awake in the beginning, but I was quite enjoying myself." Chip opened his eyes and stared at the prince. "You look awful."

Damien appraised Chip's own greasy locks, shorter than Damien's but still just as bad. He smirked. "You look just the same."

Chip chuckled and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "I suppose I shouldn't complain. Although a bath would be nice."

"Hasn't your mother already ordered one?"

"Well she tried, but the doctor didn't want to move me for fear of damaging my leg any further."

"Speaking of injuries, how does it fair?"

"In terms of pain, horrendous. That willow stuff is wonderful, only because I can actually sleep when I take it." Chip stared at his folded hands in his lap. "The worst part is I don't even know if I can still walk," he said quietly.

Damien reached over and covered his friend's hands with one of his. "I'm sure you will, Chip. God can't be that cruel."

Chip smirked. "Oh, He can I'm sure, but let's hope He answers my mother's prayers. And mine." The elder patted Damien's hand. "Your eye. Can you . . . well . . ."

"See? No, I . . . not out of the right one." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "All I see are colours and . . . everything is blurry on that side," he sighed. "I don't understand how it happened."

Chip reached into his bedside table and pulled out a mirror. "Have a look."

Damien grabbed the silver handle and held it up in front of him. His eyes widened. The right eye was covered in a thick scar. The red, puckered skin looked angry, and when Damien touched it, he winced. The eye itself was a milky blue and he could see a scar running over the lid. He put the mirror down and looked away from Chip as he took deep breathes.

 _Vincent and that . . . that torch . . ._

"I'm sorry, Damien."

The prince didn't respond for a few minutes. Finally he turned back to his friend and smiled. "How are things going with Josephine? Did you show her the letters?"

Chip shook his head. "Unfortunately, they were burned in the fire. I have, however, become better acquainted with her, now that Mother feels she can trust Josephine to properly care for me. I haven't gathered the nerve to tell her how I feel yet."

Damien chuckled. "How can you be such a coward after fighting a war?"

Chip shrugged. "Physical wounds heal faster than a broken heart. Right now I'd like to keep at least one part of me intact."

"True," Damien chuckled. "Has Ophelia been to visit you?"

"Oh yes, quite often actually. Well, once a day, but that's often considering she's so busy."

"Did she happen to mention what is taking up so much of her time?"

"No, but I assume it must be important. She wouldn't be this secretive if it wasn't."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Secrets never end well, at least not in this family."

"I'm not sure about that. Besides, she seems fine. Ophelia can handle herself."

"As long as it doesn't have anything to do with that Jamie fellow. I still don't like him."

Chip chuckled. "After all these years and you still don't like the lad?"

Damien blushed. "He was being inappropriate with my sister. They were just children then. He should have known better."

"That's the point, they _were_ children. And now she's eighteen. What if it does have something to do with Jamie?"

The prince frowned. "Then I don't want to know about it."

"Good," Chip smirked, "because with a reaction like that I doubt she would tell you anything."

Damien sighed. "I don't know if I like being home. It's much more complicated than it was out there on the battlefield."

"We'll get used to it again. We don't have much of a choice."

"Perhaps," Damien sighed. He slid off the bed and got to his feet, much easier than earlier thankfully. "I'd best head back to my room. No doubt my parents are there ready to lecture me about rest."

"They probably took a lesson on that from my mother. It's a wonder she actually went home today," Chip chuckled.

"Oh, but she'll be back, don't you fear!"

Chip groaned. "Let's hope she doesn't hurry. If you see Josephine while you're on your walk-"

"Don't worry, I'll send her in." Damien quietly shut the door behind him. He hoped Tristin hadn't forgotten about that bath. He could certainly use it.


	21. Chapter 20

Ophelia heard a tea cup shatter, followed by an appropriate slew of curses.

"Why does this always happen when I'm having a party?" Colene grumbled.

The nineteen year old glanced over her shoulder at the girl as she swept up the mess.

"Perhaps it's because you're more focused on getting everything ready than being careful?"

Colene brushed aside a loose curl and huffed. "Probably, but that doesn't make it any easier." She looked up at the princess. "Thank you for coming early. I really do appreciate it."

Ophelia smiled. "Any time. It wasn't like I was busy with anything else today." She had already shared breakfast with Nicholas and attended chapel with her family.

Colene's rose skirts hovered over a piece of china. Ophelia bent down and grabbed it before the girl could step on it. She turned back to the counter and grabbed the platter of tiny cakes.

"When will Sophia be here?" the princess asked.

"Who knows, I tried to get a straight answer out of her, but she said Christophe might make them late again. You know how it is, being a 'lord' and all," Colene chuckled.

Ophelia walked over to the round table, placing the cakes in the center. "Well, at least she's coming. Ever since she married and moved, we've hardly seen her."

"True," said Colene, "but it's not as if we didn't know it would happen. I don't think Chris even got the whole proposal out of his mouth before she said yes."

Ophelia laughed as she nodded her head. "Oh, I don't doubt that. Poor boy, he really didn't know what he was getting himself into."

Colene agreed as she swept up the last shattered piece. The wooden floor of her mother's kitchen was free of disaster for at least another minute. The woman swept the rest of the dirt out the front door, leaving it open to bring in the fresh spring air. Ophelia took a deep breath and wondered how large the apple blossom tree was in the backyard. It certainly smelt like it was healthy.

"Did you get a hold of Nan?" asked Colene.

The princess recalled the previous night when she trekked over to Nan's home. The door had been locked and the lights were out. She threw rocks at the window for at least ten minutes, but it didn't help. A dog barked in the backyard. It didn't sound welcoming.

"No, but I left a letter under the rock. Hopefully her father doesn't trip over it."

Colene shuddered. "What an awful man. Auntie could have married much better."

Ophelia shrugged. "At least she didn't marry Lefou. Has Chris managed to locate him yet?"

The villager shook her head. "He's tried, but it's difficult when you spend most of the year in the north. I wonder where the old fool stumbled off to. It's a real mystery."

"By now he's probably in the belly of a wolf."

Colene smirked. "Don't tell Sophia that. She may not have liked the man, but for Chris' sake she must act as if she is concerned."

"I promise to be on my best behaviour," the princess chuckled.

The table was soon decorated with spiced ham, fresh rolls, apple slices, strawberries, and an extra helping of cream. Ophelia tied a ribbon to the back of each chair. Chris received red, Sophia blue, Colene pink, and Nan, if she came, a deep violet. Jamie's would be green when he returned from the tailor's, and Ophelia decided to give herself a slip of yellow ribbon. She pushed each chair in then stepped back, hands on her hips, and scanned the table. It was a good thing she washed the nice plates, she doubted the white would shine through all that dust beforehand.

"Ophelia."

She turned her head to Colene who was balancing tea cups and saucers. She thought the girl wanted help, but Colene seemed to have it taken care of as she slowly walked over.

"Ophelia, I've been meaning to ask you for some time now but, well, I was wondering if you would be terribly opposed to the idea of Jamie and me getting married."

Her eyes widened as she stared at her friend.

"N-No, of course not! I think that—well that's wonderful," she laughed. Ophelia walked over to her friend and helped her put the cups in their appropriate place. "I think . . . you two are happy, yes?"

Colene nodded. "Oh yes, of course! Having him here is wonderful, but Mother is a tad picky about where he sleeps, and it's becoming such a hassle to find time together. He still has his obligations at the inn, obviously, as do I now, but it would be nice to call him my husband."

"He asked for your hand, then?"

She smiled. "Yes, yesterday. I said I wanted to see what you thought, before agreeing to anything."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "Why, what for?"

Colene shrugged. She lowered her gaze. "You're my friend, Ophelia. I remember how close you two used to be, and I didn't want to—well I couldn't say yes if I knew you still loved him."

The princess blushed. "Oh Colene, you don't need to worry about that!" she chuckled. "Jamie is yours, completely. I have not—what I mean to say is, you don't need my permission to marry a man you love."

"I know, but I know it would mean a lot to Jamie if you approved. He still cares for you-"

Ophelia hugged Colene, cutting her off. "Marry him, Colene," she whispered.

The girl returned the embrace, resting her head on the princess' shoulder. "You're sure?"

She thought of the year prior. Would she have encouraged such a union so passionately? The princess swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded. "Of course, Colene, of course I am. This is wonderful! We now have a reason to celebrate!" She pulled back and smiled at the girl. "When will the wedding be?"

The blonde wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she smiled. "Soon, hopefully. Mother will want it to be at the chapel she married Papa in, but I'm not sure if that's what I want."

Ophelia placed a hand on the girl's shoulder and squeezed it. "You do whatever you want, Colene. I'll be there no matter what."

"Thanks Ophelia, I—I'm really glad you're my friend."

They hugged again. "Don't make me start to cry. We have a party!"

Just then, someone knocked on the open door. Ophelia looked over her shoulder and saw Sophia there with her husband. Chris appeared exhausted as always, but his happiness was evident by the ring on his left hand. His arm slackened around his wife's waist as Sophia ran over to the girls. The breath was squeezed out of her body when Sophia hugged her, but she didn't care.

"It's so good to see you both! I've missed you," Sophia whispered. She took a step back and stared at them. "Colene, have you grown?"

The younger blushed. "No, I think you're imagining things," she chuckled.

Sophia lifted up her skirt a tad and gasped. "Who gave you these shoes? They're gorgeous!"

Ophelia raised her hand. "That would be me. A Christmas gift. I still have yours, if you ever want it."

Sophia glanced at the girl and smiled. "You've grown too! Well, maybe not grown, but your hair is longer! Are you wearing new clothes?"

Ophelia glanced at the blouse Nicholas surprised her with during one of her visits. The brown material looked almost black with sleeves that puffed out until they cinched in at her wrists. Gold flowers covered it and the buttons matched.

 _Please don't try to give it back. And don't ask how I came across it. Some mysteries are best left unsolved._

She cleared her throat, putting Nicholas' voice out of her mind. "Yes, I . . . my mother gave it to me," she explained.

Sophia grinned. "Well, it looks lovely. You should wear it more often."

Chris came over and Ophelia kissed both his cheeks. "And how are you, Lord Chris?"

He smirked. "Faring well, thank you. And you?"

"Couldn't be better," she chuckled.

The party moved to the table and just as Chris was about to snatch a cake, Jamie joined the group. After waiting another twenty minutes, Colene decided it was time they started.

"I don't want to be rude, but I doubt Nan is able to make it. It would be a shame to let everything go to waste."

It certainly would have. Ophelia hadn't realized how hungry she was until then. Conversation changed minutely, but when the announcement of Colene and Jamie's engagement came up, Sophia added she also had exciting news to share.

"I'm with child!"

"Are you sure?" Colene asked as her smile started to grow.

Sophia nodded. "Of course I'm sure! A woman knows these things. Besides, Mama sent a midwife to check and the woman confirmed it. We should have a healthy son by the time snow falls, if all goes well." She leaned back in her chair and placed a hand on her flat belly. "I can't wait," she whispered.

Ophelia folded her arms across her lap and watched as her friends talked of weddings and babies. In the chatter, she lost track of her thoughts and was surprised when she found herself wishing Nicholas was there. She felt a hand on her shoulder and thought it was his, but smiled at Jamie.

"Are you . . . Colene said you were happy with the proposal?"

She nodded. "Most happy. I'm glad you two are going to wed." She placed her hand over his. The scruff around his jawline reminded her of Nicholas and she had to blink to get the picture out of her mind. "Really, Jamie, I am. I love . . . I love that you are happy," she smiled.

Jamie grinned as he squeezed her hand. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Happy. Are you happy?"

Ophelia knew the answer he wanted. She spread her lips thin and gave a quick nod. "Of course I am Jamie, how could I not be when everything is going so well?"

"What are you two talking about?" Sophia said.

"Nothing important," said Jamie as he turned back to the group.

Chris, after taking a bite of the ham, glanced at the princess. "How is your brother doing? Has his sight returned?"

News spread quickly of Damien's injury, and to most the damage was soon forgotten as crops and other more immediate dangers came to mind. But the prince was always in the forefront of his sister's mind. For a year now he had been dealing with the damage, relatively well she supposed, yet it worried her all the same. Sometimes he was so quiet, wouldn't leave his room for days, and she wanted to help, but she didn't have any words to restore sight. She wished she did.

Ophelia thought of him now. Perhaps he had gone to for a ride in the country. Thankfully, he could still steer with only one good eye.

"He's . . . well. I do not want to say we have given up on a return of sight, but . . ."

Chris nodded. "I hope to visit him while we're in the area. Do you think he would oppose that?"

Ophelia shook her head. "I think he would be delighted. He was quite adamant about your placement as a lord, after all."

Christ grinned and Sophia started off on going to the castle as a lady. Suddenly, the front door opened and a bag flew inside with a thud. Ophelia watched as Nan stepped through, her bruised arms speckled in purple splotches. Nan's hair hung around her face in thick ringlets, attempting to a hide a jagged cut along her collar bone. No one spoke until the door was slammed shut. Nan stared at the group and placed her hands on her hips.

"Does anyone have a place I can stay?"

Ophelia flung herself from her chair and wrapped the girl up in a hug. "Of course," she whispered against the girl's curls. "We can go to the palace as soon as you've had something to eat."

Nan shook her head. "No, not the palace. Papa knows how to get there. He could easily find me and bring me home. I need something better, something . . ."

"Secret," Ophelia said quietly. Nan nodded. An image of Nicholas' home came to mind. It was perfect for what Nan needed, and yet . . . would Nicholas approve?

"Leave with me after. I think I may have a place for you to stay," Ophelia said.

"You can always stay here, Nan. You know Mama wouldn't mind," Colene said as she took the girl's hands in hers.

Nan smiled. "I know, but you have enough people to fit in here with Jamie. Besides, Papa wouldn't have to look very hard to find me."

Colene pouted. "That's true. Well, I hope whatever Ophelia has for you is safe."

"I can vouch it is as safe as they come."

"Good," Colene nodded. "Now come, sit and eat. You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"I really do appreciate this, Nicholas. Honestly, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't think it was serious," Ophelia said as she hoisted herself over the edge of the attic. Nicholas took her hand and silently led her to the pillow throne. She saw he had lit a candle for reading. She blushed. Of course she managed to interrupt his nightly routine. The sleeping attire should have given that away.

Nicholas settled down, propping another pillow up against his back, then tugged on her hand. She flopped down beside him, cushioned by his side and the pillows.

"I know, and you don't need to be so concerned. I'm not angry."

"I'm not concerned, I'm just—well I know what I'm asking of you. And I know that I don't have any right to invite people in here, especially when-" Nicholas' smirk made her stop speaking. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, I just find this amusing."

"How is my attempt at a meaningful conversation amusing?"

Nicholas shrugged and stretched out his arm over the back of his throne. She felt the steady heat coming off his skin and leaned back against it with a sigh. She shut her eyes and thought of Nan.

She handled the initial introduction quite well. There was less screaming and more lecturing, but at least she promised not to tell anyone what was going on. Ophelia was just glad she wasn't going to be found any time soon. If she stuck to the house, that is. At the thought of Nan spending so much quality time with Nicholas, Ophelia had to take a deep breath. What was she concerned about? Nan was coming out of an abusive environment. She wouldn't be looking for anyone in a romantic sense.

 _But she will be looking for a protector, and Nicholas can be that, when provoked._ She recalled their excursion through the woods and, with every cracking twig, his hand went to grab her sleeve or hand.

No, worrying about such things wasn't necessary. Ophelia thought of Sophia's child, her wedding ring, Colene's proposal, and realized, in a horrified fashion, that she was likely the next in need of a husband.

 _Dear God, it can't be that time in my life already, can it?_

Well, it likely had been for years now, but with the war and her parents being as passive as they were about such things, it hadn't come up. She mentally groaned. Suitors. Lord help her, but she was not looking forward to those.

"What's the matter?"

Ophelia opened one eye. Nicholas was still focused on his book. "What do you mean?"

"That groan. Are you in pain?"

Apparently she hadn't been as silent as she thought. She turned on her side, bringing her knees up closer while tucking her feet underneath the blanket. Below she heard Nan exploring the kitchen with Raoul.

"Not pain exactly, just . . . is it odd to be horrified by the prospect of marriage?"

"You wish never to marry or never to marry without love?"

Ophelia shrugged. "At this point I don't think it's possible to marry with love."

"Well that's quite cynical of you."

She rolled her eyes. "Sophia is with child and Colene is set to marry Jamie. I am here, in your attic, where I have been for what seems like my whole life, and that's a good thing I promise you, yet out there . . ."

"Out there is a world waiting to give you a suitor and children you don't desire?"

She sighed. "Exactly." She watched Nicholas turn another page in his book. His long bangs hung in front of his eyes and she brushed them away. "Why have you never married?"

Nicholas shrugged. "I never felt inclined. After the war I was still a boy, at least by stature, and I didn't have anything to offer a prospective bride."

"And now?"

Nicholas glanced at her. "Now I have this house, a dog who I am surprisingly fond of, and you. It seems to me I don't need anything else."

Ophelia felt her cheeks become hot. "Would you marry me, then, just to make the picture complete?"

"Do you want me to ask you to marry me?"

"Not if you don't actually want to."

Nicholas turned another page. "I think it would be unproductive to end this night with a proposal, especially seeing as we are both tired."

"That's your excuse? You're tired?"

"Would you prefer I say I was hungry?"

She snorted. "I would have preferred you said the truth."

Nicholas sighed. "Let's just leave it, alright? We're talking of marriage when we haven't even-"

"Haven't what, declared our everlasting love and vowed to defend each other to the death?"

"Isn't that how these things are supposed to go?"

"I don't know!"

"What do you mean you don't know, your parents-"

"That's exactly the point! My life has been based around a love story that outlives all others. I've seen it all my life and been told what it means time and time again but it doesn't mean anything to me. It never will until . . . until I find that story for myself. Until I make my own." She stared at Nicholas for a moment then sighed. "Never mind." She rolled away from Nicholas and dragged the blanket further up to her chin.

A moment later, she heard him blow out the candle. The floor beneath them creaked as he moved onto his side. She felt his hand rest up against her back, weaving itself through her hair. She started to fall asleep as he spoke.

"If I asked you now, it would be for the wrong reasons. I am old enough to know that if I marry you, there is a chance it could go horribly wrong. I am a coward, Ophelia. An old, beaten man and if . . . if I were to be yours completely, it would be a disservice to you. I don't say these things to receive pity, but because I know that what I feel for you now is not something that will change." She felt the weight of his head lean against her shoulder. "I can only promise you my devotion. Completely. Is that enough?"

The air was silent. Ophelia counted her breathes, and Nicholas'. Slowly, she turned over and felt what could only be his lips brushing innocently against her cheek. She waited with eyes shut and lips parted. Finally, she found something to say.

"Yes."

His arms slid around the thick material of her outfit and brought her closer until her head found a place against his shoulder. She turned her head, burying her face in the soft material of his dress shirt, and brought a hand to rest against the skin along his neck.

She suddenly wasn't so concerned about leaving Nan alone with Nicholas.


	22. Chapter 21

Wood shavings fell to the floor around Damien's feet. Perched on a stool, he stared at the figure inside the wood that started to take form. Other figurines lined his shelves, huddling up with the array of books he kept for safe keeping. The curtains were pulled back, letting in the faint outline of sunlight. Dust danced in the air around him, but his gaze seldom wandered from his carving.

Melissa purred from atop the mantel as the fire simmered below. The cat kept an eye on Fraser whose fur was coated in a thin layer of dust. He wondered what the cat managed to get into now.

" _Sire, I don't wish to dishearten you, but I'm afraid it might be time to, well, accept that your sight may never return, at least not to its full capacity."_

Damien exhaled heavily and sliced off a chunk of wood from the carving. Stupid doctor, what did he know? It had only been a year. Perhaps, with some new developments, a procedure would become available. Hope was not lost, it couldn't be.

 _"Your Majesty, if I may be frank, perhaps you should consider my earlier suggestion about a permanent home. It could serve him well, with nurses there to attend to him . . ."_

The prince growled. He couldn't believe that man dare suggest sending Damien away. His parents would _never_ consider such a thing. Perhaps Damien's sight would never return, and he wasn't as fast as he used to be. He may not be able to keep up with Henri, but that didn't make him feeble!

 _I am not weak!_

He thought of his brother. Proud Henri, with his status as heir all but sealed. Where did he go, these days? Damien couldn't keep track of him. It seemed there was always a hunt to participate in, a joust to win, an uprising to take care of . . . princely things. Kingly matters. It made Damien sick.

 _Those should be mine. I am just as much an heir as he is! I know more about councils and papers and the truly important matters!_

But he couldn't be the public figure the kingdom needed. No one would respect him, let alone look at him long enough to listen to what he had to say. Children were terrified of him now, and their mothers never looked him in the eye. No woman did, for that matter. Only those close to the family would, although Josephine sometimes stared at his eye when they talked.

Damien clenched the knife tightly in his fist. Things were supposed to be easier. His sight was supposed to return and everything . . . everything would return to normal. But instead here he was, kept mainly to the castle by choice, locked away where no one would stare or—or be afraid of him.

He threw the wooden figurine. The piece, looking similar to a sword, split in two, staring up at the prince. He growled again and stepped on it with his boot. He heard the wood splinter beneath him and took a terrifying satisfaction from the sound. He looked around the chamber, wondering what else he could destroy.

Melissa watched her master topple the stool as Damien spotted a vase. He tried to remember who gave it to him, perhaps his mother, but that did not matter. He picked it up over his head and smashed it. The white and gold work of art shattered, sending its pieces all over the floor. Damien's breathing became labored and he marched to the bookcase.

His wonders stared back at him with their straight spines and gold script. The piece of furniture went all the way to his ceiling, but that didn't stop him from snatching the books and tossing them anywhere he saw fit. Some pages ripped, spines were cracked, but Damien didn't hear it over the sound of his breathing.

Fraser hissed when a book nearly hit him. Damien saw the cat go under the bed, followed by Melissa. When the bookcase was almost empty, Damien grabbed it with his scarred hands and shook and shook until it started to lean forward. With a final tug, Damien sent it tumbling onto the ground.

There! Let anyone dare call him weak or feeble now. He doubted Henri would do such a thing! Damien started to laugh, but the sound scared him. He sounded . . . unwell. Damien shook off the feeling and instead reached onto the mantle, grabbing another vase. He had it above his head and was about to toss it, when he heard a familiar voice.

"Sire? Are you alright?"

Damien turned around and saw Cogsworth standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide and white, and Damien saw the fear inside, only making him angrier.

"Leave me alone!" he growled, tossing the vase onto the carpet.

Cogsworth flinched. "S-Sire, please, calm yourself. I'm sure whatever it is that has upset you can be fixed if you just-"

"Don't tell me what to do! I am not yours to command!" Damien grabbed a book and hurled it at the assistant's head. Cogsworth narrowly missed it. He shut the door behind him and leaned back against the door.

"Sire, you are right. Please accept my apology."

Damien hadn't expected that. His grip on one of his wooden carving slackened. He narrowed his eyes. "You're just telling me what I want to hear, like all the others in this blasted place. Get out!"

He threw the bear at the door, purposefully missing Cogsworth.

The elder didn't move though. He folded his hands behind his back as a wood chip landed in his light brown hair. "Damien, I can assure you no one is lying to you. Whatever it is that has upset you can be fixed, if you just tell me what is making you this angry."

The prince turned his back to the man. "Everything! Everything is wrong, it's—no one gives a damn what happens to me! Everyone looks to Henri, he is what they want, and he's perfect in their eyes. But no one knows what I went through! They didn't see the children I had to burn or—or the plans I made to keep us all safe. Henri takes all the bloody credit and he's up on that blasted pedestal while I'm—I'm-" Damien's voice cracked. "I'm here." He pressed the heel of his hand against his injured eye and sobbed. "A weak little prince who no one wants."

He heard Cogsworth's footsteps and felt a hand on his back. "You are one of the strongest people I know, Damien. Whatever has made you think you are weak?"

Damien wiped his nose with the back of his navy blue robe. "This stupid eye," he whispered. "Everyone stares, Cogsworth. You _know_ what they think. They think-"

"That you a monster, yes?"

"Like _Father_ when he was a beast!"

Cogsworth took Damien by the elbow and led him to his bed where both men sat for a time.

"You know, Damien, when your father was under the curse, he was not an easy man to be around. He was angry and ashamed, but mostly sad. He terrified me, but I remembered the boy he used to be, before he became spoiled and before he became a beast. Those thoughts reminded me that he was, and still is, human. He becomes angry now, and sad, and ashamed, but time has taught him lessons, just as time will do the same for you. You must understand that it is perfectly alright to feel these emotions. You have been hurt and people have not been kind. There is no excuse for you to be treated as such when all you did was fight bravely for your family. And I am truly, truly sorry that you feel like a monster. You could never be one Damien, not even your father was one, not exactly."

Damien stared at Cogsworth but could barely see the man thanks to the tears obstructing his vision. "You think so?" he muttered.

The older man nodded. "Yes Sire, I most certainly do. Here, take his handkerchief. Dry your eyes."

Damien dutifully followed his orders and, once he could see clearly, he cringed. "I really did make a mess, didn't I?"

Cogsworth shrugged. "Yes, but it is nothing that can't be rectified." The man got off the bed and picked up a book along the way. He had a stack in hand by the time he reached the bookcase. Despite his portly shape, Cogsworth didn't have much trouble lifting the case back into its original spot. Silently, he began putting the books back where they belonged. Damien got off the mattress and followed the man's lead.

"How is Josephine?" Damien asked quietly as they worked.

Cogsworth smiled. "She's doing well, Sire. I think she likes the village more than she ever did the castle. Chip has made a fine life for her, despite the difficulties."

Damien remembered the wedding a month prior. At first he refused to go outside and be paraded around in front of all those people, but Ophelia promised to be by his side the entire time, so he had no choice but to go.

Chip managed to keep his leg, and even walk on it with the assistance of a cane, which of course pleased Mrs. Potts to no end. He married Josephine in the courtyard where they first met as children then proceeded to move into their own home near Maurice's where the two men worked at their inventions. Damien was happy for his friend, but he still recalled the stares he received that day.

"Good, that's . . . I'm glad to hear that."

"So is her mother. I'm just glad the girl settled down."

"You raised a fine girl, Cogsworth. You hadn't needed to worry about her."

Cogsworth smiled. "Thank you, Sire. Unfortunately as a parent it is my duty to worry, or so my wife has told me, constantly," he chuckled.

"Do you . . . do you have any news on my brother? I haven't talked with him much lately."

The elder shrugged as he put away another book. "There isn't much to tell, thankfully. He is as good as he has always been, although I suspect he is arranging a marriage with Magdalene, despite the distance that separates them."

Damien remembered the day Magdalene left to return to her village. He said his goodbyes the day prior, so he had an excuse to avoid the event. He watched from his window as Henri embraced the woman. The younger prince suspected something was going on, but he hadn't been able to put his finger on it then. Now the picture became clearer.

"What does my father have to say about that?"

Cogsworth didn't answer at first. He cleared his throat then picked up one of the carvings that was still intact.

"Cogsworth?"

The man sighed and put the figure back on the mantle. "I should not tell you this, but . . . I have a feeling your father is planning something else for him."

Damien put down the book and faced the man. "A feeling? Come now, Cogsworth, you never have 'a feeling'. What does my father plan to do?"

Cogsworth bit his lip and looked around the room. Damien waited, crossing his arms over his chest. Finally the elder man gave in.

"His Majesty is attempting to arrange a marriage with Princess Anne of England."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Why her, of all people?" Anne had visited once with her parents on a diplomatic journey when the princes were ten. It wasn't as if a spark had developed at that age.

Cogsworth sighed. "He has reason to believe Helena waits in England where she is gathering an army to attack again. If he can create an alliance with the royal family-"

"Then defeating Helena will be much easier," Damien finished. He leaned back against the bookcase and stared at Cogsworth. "Does my brother know?"

"No one does except myself, his and her Majesty, and you, now. And you mustn't tell another soul, Damien. Nothing is confirmed as of yet."

Damien nodded. "I won't. Do you know if he is planning anything else?"

"Do you mean, if he is arranging a marriage for you?"

Damien nodded.

Cogsworth looked ready to lie, so Damien shook his head. "Don't bother, I know the answer to that myself."

"Sire," he sighed, "it isn't an easy task to keep this kingdom together. You said so yourself, Henri is the heir, his betrothal requires more attention than yours or your sisters'."

Damien hadn't even thought of Ophelia and Camilla. He hoped his father wasn't considering an arrangement for them just yet, especially not for little Lila.

Cogsworth placed a hand on the prince's shoulder. "All will be well, Sire. We just have to take these things one day at a time."

Damien nodded and thanked the man. Together, they restored the prince's chamber to its former glory. When that was done, Cogsworth left to go about his other duties. Damien glanced at the clock and saw he had enough time to lounge about before dinner. The prince went back to his bed and sat atop it. Moments later, Fraser and Melissa came out from underneath the bed. Fraser rubbed against Damien's hand while the female hopped onto his lap. The prince smiled at the pair.

"I'm sorry for scaring you both earlier," he said quietly. "Forgive me?" Both mewed in reply, and he took that as a good sign. As he sat there, the prince realized how tired he was. He leaned back against the mattress, taking the cats with him. He kicked the covers atop him and settled in for an afternoon nap. Perhaps when he awoke, things would look better.


	23. Chapter 22

Nicholas' feet were cold.

Ophelia shied away from them, her mind still blurry from sleep, but she had the sense to pull the blanket tighter around her. His arm was slack around her waist, as if gripping a pillow in his slumber. Speaking of pillows, hers was lumpy. She attempted to bury her head beneath it, but discovered that wouldn't work since it was Nicholas' other arm.

He muttered something in his sleep. She rolled over, pressing her head just below his collar bone. The skin there was cool too, refreshingly so against her warm cheeks.

Something in the kitchen smashed. Ophelia groaned.

"Better not have been the butter churner," Nicholas muttered.

Ophelia snorted, trying not to laugh. "I'll buy you a new one."

She heard his chuckle. "Look how I've moved up in the world."

She smacked his chest, causing him to flinch. "Ouch," he whined. "I thought you were supposed to be docile in the morning."

"When am I _ever_ docile?" she muttered.

Nicholas pressed his lips to the crown of her head. "Right, right. I must have forgotten during our confession last night."

" _Our_ confession? Last I recall, you were the one pouring your heart out, very sweet mind you, but _I_ didn't say anything."

"You said yes."

"Besides that."

"Would you like to say something now?"

Ophelia sat up, placing her hand near his face. Nicholas rested his head against her wrist, listening to her heartbeat as his beard scratched her skin. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder and she had to squint because of the light, but Nicholas' steady gaze on her made her blush. "You're making me nervous," she said with a chuckle, looking up at the ceiling.

Nicholas smirked. "Appears to be what I do best, as of late." He gave her wrist a quick kissing, causing her heartbeat to quicken.

She sighed. "Stop that. You're supposed to be on your best behavior."

"This is my best behavior! Or haven't you noticed?"

"I have, that's what makes me worry."

He sat up a bit, tilting his head to the right. "Are you honestly concerned, or are you merely saying that to get a rise out of me?"

Ophelia shrugged. "Both?"

Nicholas shook his head. He put aside a few pillows and pulled her onto his lap. She felt his legs stretch out and cushion her around the back. Hers mimicked his in response. His arms wrapped around her waist and she waited for him to say something, anything. That bloody staring was going to be the death of her. That, or she was going to end up kissing that stare off his face, somehow.

She sighed. "I'm not worried, not really. I mean—well you have to understand Nicholas, I," she paused. "I'm afraid." Ophelia lowered her gaze. "Of me. Of—everything. The castle is back to the way it was, or at least, the way it was supposed to be, and now-"

"Now you have me. Here. Whenever you want."

The princess smiled. "I wish it were that easy, Nicholas. I'd stay forever if I could."

Nicholas nodded. "I know. I'd want you to, if I knew it would happen."

She shook her head. "You shouldn't say such nice things, not when I'm half-asleep."

He chuckled. "I suppose I do have an unfair advantage. Although, you usually have the upper hand," he reminded.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "I'll get you back."

"I know." Something else rattled downstairs. The princess heard Nan's voice and sighed.

"I should help her navigate your kitchen. I had the fortune of doing it alone."

Nicholas didn't loosen his grip. "Before you go, would it be terribly improper to kiss you?"

She blinked. "I-I can't see why not."

It happened before she had a chance to close her eyes. She read in books how kisses were supposed to happen, in rainfall or moonlight, and she saw her parents exchange them enough to get a feel for the appearance, but nothing she read or saw prepared her to feel this . . . peaceful. Well, her head became clear, but her heart wouldn't stop pounding. She was sure Nicholas could feel it through his clothes.

Ophelia wondered if this was how her parents felt. Did they come together like this in the morning, when their eyes were still full of sleep and everything told them to stay in bed for the rest of the day? The princess wrapped her arms around his neck, resting them there long enough to feel their weight shift, until she fell back. She began to laugh and Nicholas sat up, his chuckles filling the room.

"Well, I imagined that to be slightly more romantic, but it will have to do."

She propped herself up on her elbows. "You imagined that occurring often?"

Nicholas shrugged. "You didn't?"

"Ophelia!"

The princess sighed. She sat up fully and gave him a quick kiss. "I'll tell you later." She headed to the edge of the attic. "Coming Nan!"

Nicholas leaned over the side as she went down, his arm hanging over the edge. "Will you be coming back?"

Ophelia reached the ground and slipped on her shoes. "Likely not."

He sighed. "And I can't guarantee I'll get out of bed before you go."

"I'll come by tomorrow, alright?"

"Not tonight?"

She sighed. "Nicholas-"

"Alright, alright. Tomorrow it is. Have a good time, doing whatever it is princesses do."

She grabbed a pillow and tossed it at him, hitting him on the head. "Lazy," she muttered as she exited the room.

By the time she made it downstairs, Nan was sitting on the kitchen table, her legs crossed and a bowl of porridge on her lap.

"You called?" Ophelia asked as she ran a hand through her hair.

Nan looked over her shoulder, staring at the girl. "Yes, I—well I heard some strange noises coming from down the hall, and I was wondering-"

"Oh those. Don't fret, Nicholas isn't a mad man," she chuckled. "He keeps birds in one of the rooms. I can show you later, if you'd like."

Nan raised an eyebrow. "Birds?"

The princess nodded. "That's what I said. They won't harm you. Most of them are quite nice to humans and those that aren't merely hide while you feed them."

"You _feed_ them?"

"Well, some of them. Most are healthy enough to hunt on their own, but a few can't be bothered, or so I've noticed." Ophelia grabbed a bowl and poured herself some breakfast.

"Just how long have you been coming here?"

She shrugged, pulling out a chair. "Long enough, I suppose."

Nan stared at the girl, waiting for a better answer, or so it seemed. Ophelia sighed. "Almost two years, just a little under."

The girl nearly dropped her bowl. "Two years? Why didn't you _tell_ anyone?"

Ophelia laughed. "For this exact reason! No one needed to know. No one still does, actually. So while you're staying here, I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring guests. Nicholas would also appreciate that, actually."

Nan furrowed her brow. "Are you two betrothed?"

The princess turned red. "Not in the least!"

"But you wish you were, don't you?" Nan giggled.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Just eat your porridge. I have to get back to the castle."

"Do you often spend the night here?"

She sighed. "I honestly don't know. I don't keep track."

"Must be getting quite serious."

"Hardly. We just . . . fulfill a mutual need."

"And what need would that be?"

"Companionship."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Nan!"

The girl smirked. "What, I'm just telling you the truth. No one is going to believe you two aren't, well, you know."

Ophelia pushed back her chair. "I brought you here to keep you safe, not to have you cause trouble. Whatever is going on between Nicholas and I is honestly none of your business. I'm heading home." She made it to the front door with Raoul before Nan caught up.

"Wait, Ophelia, don't be upset," she took the girl's hand. "I'm sorry, really, I just, well—you have to understand. I mean, you didn't tell me, you're best friend."

Ophelia sighed. "I didn't tell you because there's nothing to tell. We're not married, nor will we ever be, at least right now." She turned and pecked the girl's forehead. "Stay inside today. Get a feel for the place. I'll be back tomorrow. And remember, don't tell Sophia or Colene where you are."

Nan agreed then let the princess and her companion go, locking the door behind them.

"Ophelia Abrielle, where have you been all night?"

The princess cringed as she walked through the doors of the dining hall. Her brothers were there, but it was her father she was more concerned about. He sat in his usual seat, but he had that look he got whenever he caught the children misbehaving. What was worse, he used her middle name.

She pulled out her seat between her brothers, not daring to take a look at either of them, and grabbed a piece of bread.

"I stayed with Colene," she said while spreading honey over the fresh piece.

"Jamie came this morning, asking to see you. He said you left Colene's in the afternoon," Belle said as she stared at her daughter.

"And I came back later, when he was gone."

"Jamie spent the night, or so he claimed," Emmanuel replied. "Now I want you to tell me where you really were."

She took a bite and chewed, taking her time. She needed a good lie now.

"Well?" Emmanuel said.

Ophelia exhaled through her nose. Why this sudden interest in her whereabouts? When the war was going on, they barely noticed she was here. It had taken them over a year to notice she was even around. She glanced at Damien from the corner of her eye. She wished they were still fretting over him.

 _I doubt they truly care where I have been going._

"What was that, Ophelia?" Belle asked.

The princess blushed. "Nothing."

Emmanuel leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Honestly dear, you've been acting so strange lately. I'm concerned."

She snorted. "I'm surprised you've noticed."

"Ophelia, that's no way to talk to your father," Belle scolded. "We have noticed, dear, and it isn't good for you to be wandering about as you have."

She glanced at her mother. "You got into much worse trouble when you were my age, or so Grandfather says."

Belle narrowed her eyes. "Yes, well, be that as it may I wouldn't want you to follow in my legacy."

Emmanuel looked to his wife. "What's wrong with your legacy? At Ophelia's age we were betrothed!"

She smirked. Good, let them bicker. She grabbed another piece of bread and left the table whilst her parents squabbled. Henri glanced at her as she retreated, but she didn't pay him any heed. Perhaps the garden would be deserted at this hour.

To her delight, the guards hadn't started creeping about yet. The large expanse of stone and grass stretched out before the morning sun. Evergreens popped up in clusters, lining the decorative hedges and raised platforms. From what she recalled from her history lessons, the grounds hadn't changed much since her father was a beast.

 _Lately, he's become a lot like his old self_ , she mentally grumbled. Ophelia walked down the marble staircase, running her hand over the smooth banister as she listened to the birds twitter.

Nearby, on the large fountain protected by mythical statues, stood her sister. Camilla, now almost fifteen, hummed to herself as she walked in circles atop the slippery surface. Ophelia brushed the crumbs off her fingers and stared at the girl.

"What are you doing?"

Camilla had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, but pieces of it had come loose since that morning. Her dress, a rich cream with lavender flowers scattered over the fabric, was splattered with water droplets. She looked up from her balancing act and shrugged.

"I don't know. I just woke up this morning and decided to come outside."

"And miss breakfast?"

Camilla shrugged. "What's to miss? Is Papa in a foul mood?"

Ophelia chuckled. "You could say that." She leapt up onto the fountain. "Mind if I join you?"

Her sister, with her back to the elder, nodded. "Be my guest."

She trailed behind the girl at a casual pace. "Don't you worry about falling off?"

"Not really. It's only water and the earth."

Ophelia smiled. "I hope you stay this sweet, Lila. I really do."

The girl turned her head and stared at the elder. "Why wouldn't I?"

Ophelia opened her mouth, but just shook her head instead. "Nothing, just—never mind. I must be tired. Didn't get enough sleep last night."

Camilla nodded. "That must be it."

The girls continued on in that fashion until Ophelia was so dizzy she was sure she would take a fall. She sat down on the ledge, leaving enough room for Camilla to continue on. As she watched the girl, she realized how lonely she must be.

'I was gone so much during the war, and I haven't spent much time with her since. What kind of sister am I?'

"Lila, listen, I'm—I'm sorry for being gone a lot, especially when the boys were gone and everything was so, well, crazy. I should have been home more."

"It's alright," she said with a shrug. "You had other things to do."

Ophelia sighed. "I still should have been here for you. I mean—how are you? Really?"

Camilla laughed. "I'm fine, honestly! You don't need to worry, Sister." She came around the other side and cupped her hands, letting the water pool in her grasp. "And what about you? You seem to keep yourself occupied lately."

Ophelia blushed. "Oh, I'm fine as well. Can't complain," she chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck.

The younger didn't seem to notice the distress, for she kept walking around with a little skip in her step. "Good, I'd hate to think Papa and Mama are worrying over something serious."

The princess chuckled. "Seems they're always worrying about something."

Camilla shrugged. "It's their job as king and queen, I suppose."

Ophelia nodded. "What are you doing the rest of the day?"

"I don't know. Papa said something about an archery tournament, but I don't feel like watching the young men try to impress me. It never works and I hate to let them down."

Ophelia chuckled. "Well, what's say we go explore the West Wing? We haven't done that in ages."

The younger princess leapt off the fountain and stood by her sister. "Lead the way!"


	24. Chapter 23

"Well, that went well," Damien muttered to his brother.

Henri smirked as his parents continued to bicker. "I must admit, I didn't think that would work."

"You always did underestimate her," Damien replied.

"Did not, well, at least not after today."

Damien picked at his poached egg, wondering if he could get a scrambled one instead.

"I wonder how long it will take for them to notice," Henri whispered.

". . . Ophelia, you really shouldn't-" Emmanuel paused as he looked at where he thought she sat. He then glanced at his sons. "Where did she go?"

Both shrugged. The king leaned back against his chair and sighed. "Sometimes I wonder about that girl," he muttered.

Belle wiped her mouth then pushed back her chair. "I'll go see if I can find her. Perhaps she'll be more receptive to a talk if we don't team up on her."

Emmanuel waved her away. "Fine, fine, whatever you think, my dear."

She rolled her eyes before kissing his cheek. "Boys, do try to stick around the castle today. I'd like you to meet with the dance instructor to practice your routine for the ball."

"Yes, Mama," they replied in unison.

The door shut behind the queen, echoing in the quiet room. Damien rang for a servant and requested the egg he so desired. As the silence dragged on, the younger prince glanced at his father. The king's eyebrows were drawn together and Damien noticed his father was wearing one of his thicker winter robes, one lined with grizzly bear fur. He recalled the elder wearing that piece of clothing a lot as of late. He wondered why he wore the raggedy thing so much.

Henri stuffed the last piece of sausage in his mouth then thrust back his chair. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then patted Damien on the shoulder with it. The younger recoiled.

"Well, I'm off to the archery range. Have to win myself another championship," he chuckled.

Damien rolled his eyes. The elder had never been fantastic at the sport, and he suspected this prowess was likely put on to cover up his nerves. It was a tactic the elder prince used often in his childhood days.

"Son, have a seat. I need to have a word with you." Emmanuel looked to Damien as well. "You too, Damien. This concerns you both."

Henri scrunched up his brow but sat down all the same. His leather tunic wrinkled and Damien saw cracked mud fall off his brother's boots. He wondered where the man had been before breakfast.

The princes waited for their father to say something, but it appeared the king was having trouble forming his words. Damien saw the king's mouth moving, but no words were voiced.

Emmanuel sighed. "I hate to bring such a blasted thing up, but boys, we need to discuss inheritance. Specifically, who inherits this kingdom?"

Damien sat further back against the chair. He felt his flesh bristle at the idea of this discussion, but he couldn't just leave. He rested his hands against the carved armrests on his chair.

 _Did Cogsworth suggest he talk to us about this?_

"The kingdom has changed a great deal since my father ruled it, and I can't say for sure whether this is something I should be proud of. With the recent civil war still on everyone's mind, there could be much to worry about for whoever does inherit." Emmanuel rubbed his forehead briefly, appearing as if in pain. "You both fought bravely for the kingdom, and because of that I cannot choose based on that."

Damien's hand went to his eye, hiding his grimace as he touched the scarred flesh.

"I would be proud of either of you to take over once I am gone, for I know you would take care of your mother, and your sisters. That is my greatest concern right now, besides the whereabouts of your cousin," he sighed.

The prince looked to his brother and almost immediately he saw a crown atop the young man's head. The image frightened him, and when he blinked, he was glad to see it gone. All the same, he knew what it meant. He knew what he had to say.

"It should be Henri."

Emmanuel tilted his head to the younger twin and stared. Damien felt his brother's eyes on him as well, but kept his gaze straight ahead, focusing on the clear day outside the window.

"Son, are you sure? As twins, you have equal claim-"

Damien shook his head. "Henri is what the kingdom needs, Father. He is—brave, determined, protective . . . he will keep us safe." He lowered his gaze to his lap. "You couldn't ask for a better king."

 _Or a better son._

Emmanuel nodded. "You are these things as well, Damien, but I respect your decision. You are certain you want to relinquish your claim to the throne, so long as Henri lives?"

"I do, Father."

The king nodded. "So be it. What do you have to say, Henri?"

The elder cleared his throat. "I—I accept, Father."

"Good. I will have Cogsworth draw up the documents today. They shall be signed by tomorrow. Oh, and another thing. It's about time you boys started looking for wives, don't you think?"

Damien nearly choked on his sausage. Henri smirked. "Is this coming from you, or Mother?"

Emmanuel grimaced. "Mostly your mother, but her intentions are good. Like she was saying earlier to your sister, before she snuck off, by nineteen we were engaged. You've had a late start due to, well, complications. But I have to agree with her. After all Henri, you can't be a king without having a queen," he chuckled.

Damien saw Henri's cheeks light up before he grabbed another roll off the table. He tried to imagine himself married.

 _Who in their right mind would want someone as disfigured as me for a husband?_

A servant placed a platter of scrambled eggs before him and Damien stuffed his mouth full, preventing him from answering his father's questions.

"I only ask because I know your mother is already hunting down a suitable bride for you both."

Damien managed to snort. "You should tell her not to bother with me. A bachelor's life will suit me just fine."

Emmanuel shook his head, wagging his fork at the young man. "That's no way to think, Son. After all, you're in the prime of your life! You shouldn't turn your nose up to an opportunity."

He highly doubted he would have many opportunities, if any, but he didn't say anything.

Emmanuel finished his meal then adjusted his robe before standing. "I'm glad we had this chat, boys." As he passed Damien, he squeezed his shoulder. "And thank you for making the decision for me, Damien. I hated to do that, but it's only fair you have a chance to-"

Damien nodded. "I know, Father. You're welcome."

Emmanuel smiled and patted his shoulder. "Don't forget about those dancing lessons."

"We won't," the boys called.

As the door shut, both exhaled.

"I'm glad that's over," Damien muttered.

Henri nodded. Damien noticed he was staring and glanced at the elder. "What?"

Henri turned in his chair to properly face his brother. "Did you mean what you said earlier, about me being brave and all?"

"Of course I did. Since when did I ever say anything I didn't mean?"

Henri shrugged. "I don't know. Lately we haven't been getting along, and I was just wondering if, well-"

Damien rolled his eyes. "Henri, believe me, there honestly is no one better than you to run this kingdom. Except Ophelia perhaps, if she was a man and decided to stay in the castle long enough to see how it worked," he chuckled.

Henri smiled. "Camilla would be good too. She's quite smart. Gets that from you."

"Gets that from our parents."

"You're the one who always read to her when she was little."

"Only because I had that busted leg for a better part of a year. Who else was going to watch her?"

Henri nodded. "I suppose." He took a long sip of his apple cider. "Did that talk of marriage scare you as much as it did me?"

"Not scare, so much as disappoint. Honestly, what does Father expect? No one is going to want to marry me, and I don't even know if marriage is something I want."

"Do you not want sons?"

Damien chuckled. "You can have sons without having wives, Brother."

Henri laughed. "Don't let Mother catch you saying that!" The boys shared a good laugh and it took Henri almost a full minute to get his breathing back to normal. "I honestly don't think this marriage business is all Mother's idea. Do you?"

The younger recalled what Cogsworth said before, about alliances and such. No, he doubted very much this was all because of Belle. If anything, Belle waited quite a long time to marry, and she only did it for love, as had the king.

"No, you're likely right. Although that doesn't solve the problem of arrangements."

Henri nodded. "D'you think they've got something set up for the girls?"

"I hope not." Although, Camilla was almost of age. Ophelia definitely was, and perhaps they believed marriage would force her to settle down.

 _Listen to me, it's as if our parents are plotting to kill us, not marry us off._

"Henri, I should warn you. Cogsworth and I had a talk yesterday, and while doing so, he mentioned an arrangement you might not like."

The elder raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Do you recall Princess Anne of England?"

Henri squinted. "That red-faced girl who was afraid of horses?"

Damien nodded. "That's the one. From what Cogsworth told me, I wouldn't be surprised if she is the one they are thinking to arrange for you to marry."

Damien had never seen his brother look so pale. The boy looked ready to faint. The younger waved a hand in front of the elder's face. "Henri, Henri! Are you well? Henri?"

The prince shook his head and pushed back his chair. "No, I mean yes, I mean-" he sighed, "thank you for telling me. Really." He ruffled Damien's hair. "I'm afraid I may miss dancing lessons this afternoon. Will you cover for me?"

Damien slowly nodded his head. "Certainly. They'll believe me if I say you went on a hunt with your bird."

Henri nodded as he made long, quick strides to the door. "Brother, where are you really going?"

He glanced at the younger prince. "I'll explain later. Don't fret, I will be back in time for dinner."

Damien just nodded as he watched the other go. Alone now, his scrambled eggs cold, he decided to do something useful. He still had a bit of mess left in his room from before. Pieces of wood from his splintered carvings were becoming a hazard, especially for the cats.

The castle was oddly quiet that morning. He smirked. Perhaps that had something to do with his sisters being gone. He frowned. Come to think of it, he hasn't seen Camilla since last night. Well, hopefully she hadn't gotten herself into trouble. He could only imagine what Belle would say if she found both her daughters were becoming little runaways.

Melissa meowed her greeting from the mantle. Damien dodged half a wooden rabbit on his way to her. She fit nicely in the curve of his arm, as she always did, and he gave her a tiny squeeze along the way to his bed. Fraser lounged in the patch of sunlight on the quilt, his body stretched out with his tail flickering lazily. The prince smirked at the lazy thing and scratched behind his ear before nudging him aside. The cat hissed at the intrusion but found another patch of sunlight soon enough.

He stared at the carpet and sighed. "Bending over backwards doesn't sound like much fun anymore," he muttered. Perhaps the wood could wait. Speaking of wood, he spotted a long piece hiding underneath his bed. He wondered when he snuck that one in.

The prince pulled it out, along with his carving knife, and stared at the inanimate object. Usually, an object or word came to mind and he just went along with it, but as he looked at the wood, all he could think of was what his father said earlier. He held the knife firmly in his hand and, while Melissa lounged on the pillow beside his head, he picked away at the wood until he was satisfied.

It had turned into a plaque by accident and while the trimming was simple, it was the words that mattered to Damien.

 _For who could love a creature like me?_

It reminded him too much of his parents, but as he stared at it longer, the words became truer.

Who _would_ love him, if he couldn't even stand himself?

 _Without a kingly title forcing someone to wed me, my prospects are slim._

He shook his head and hid the wood underneath his bed with a pillow overtop for good measure.

Damien glanced at the clock. It was barely half past nine. He caught the sound of an arrow hitting a target.

 _You know, I've always been pretty good with a bow._ The prince went to his closet and pulled out a suitable outfit for the occasion, specifically light clothing. Perhaps a little tournament couldn't hurt. After all, it wasn't as if he would be doing much else with his time.

Damien tied up the laces on his boots then waved farewell to his cats. "Wish me luck."

Melissa meowed but Fraser only flicked his tail.

He smirked. "Thanks for the support." With that, he locked the door behind him.


	25. Chapter 24

"I've never understood poetry. I wish the man would just say what he means. It'd be much more romantic," Ophelia stated as she reclined before the fireplace.

"I don't know, I think it's what he isn't saying that's romantic," Camilla said from the couch above her elder.

Ophelia squinted, staring harder at the page. "And what, pray tell, is he not saying?"

"Oh, everything! Just look at line five. When he says he wishes a day would come when he would be able to live without her. That means right now he is consumed by her, but he knows a day will come when they will have to part."

The princess stared at her little sister. "How many times have you read this?"

Camilla shrugged. "Enough. Do you want to trade? I can't make sense of this pirate tale. They all seem quite cruel."

Ophelia nodded and the girls exchanged books.

Damien chuckled from the balcony to the right of his sisters.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Nothing! I just like listening to you two talk."

She smirked. "Perhaps you should focus more on that book and less on our conversation. We could be talking about you next."

He laughed then. "Oh? Do go on."

"Why would we talk about him when we could just talk with him?" asked Camilla.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "Just read your poetry, Lila."

After a rousing adventure in the West Wing, which later turned into a game of how-long-can-we-avoid-Mama, the girls shared a hearty meal in the kitchen. Once their bellies were full, Camilla suggested they head into the library for the night.

"Perhaps they won't scold us in such a sacred place."

Ophelia doubted that very much, but she hadn't dared crush her sister's hopes. Damien joined after his own dinner with the rest of court. He explained how they were missed, especially by their parents.

Speaking of brothers, where was Henri? When she asked, Damien only shrugged.

"He left this morning, after breakfast."

Well, that was peculiar! Henri's roaming tended to stick close to the castle, but it appeared his journey, wherever it was, had consumed most of his day. As Damien explained it, he was not in attendance for dinner either.

"Are you sure we shouldn't tell Mama about Henri?" Camilla asked, her nose thrust in the poetry book.

"And what would we tell them? Damien already lied about his location."

"I didn't lie! He could be hunting, for all I know."

Ophelia snorted. "You said so yourself he didn't take his hawk. How would he go hunting without it?"

"There are these animals called dogs, and weapons that look like large dinner knives, you know."

"Oh ha, ha. Aren't you cleaver? You said he left after you told him about Anne. Do you honestly believe he'd go hunting at a time like this?"

Damien shrugged. "Archery certainly cleared my head this afternoon."

"You should have told us you were performing! I wouldn't have run off with Ophelia if I had known."

"I'm hurt! You had fun, didn't you?"

"Calm down sisters, it was a surprise to me as well. Although, it was nice to win for a change," he chuckled. "Haven't done that in over a year."

"Need I remind you, you haven't done much of anything in a year," Ophelia said.

"You needn't tell me, Sister," he smirked.

She picked up the gossip from the servers, who apparently were adamant that the other archers hadn't simply _let_ the prince win. Whether or not they had didn't matter to her, though. Ophelia was just glad he did something besides read, carve, and sulk. Hopefully he would try something different tomorrow.

Hinges creaked, causing the princess to turn her head towards the door. There between the marble lions stood Henri. His boots were slick with mud and Ophelia noticed the buttons on his leather tunic were put together in the wrong holes. She thought she spotted a twig in his hair, but he had such a silly smile on his face, like he stole the largest cookie in the jar, that she had to ask.

"What did you do?"

Henri giggled as he ripped off his boots. "A great thing, Sister, a grand thing!"

Ophelia looked up at Damien. "Did he take a fall?"

Damien shrugged. He stood and, with book under arm, came down the winding staircase. "Henri, are you well? Did you have too much ale?"

When the younger twin tried to take Henri's arm, the elder smacked it away. "Ale? No, of course not! I wouldn't dream of getting drunk on such a wonderful day!"

Camilla sat up. "Henri, you're frightening me. What's happened?"

Henri picked the twig out of his locks and pulled his hair back in a ponytail. "I'll tell you, dear sister, and you will be most pleased with me."

Ophelia and Damien exchanged a concerned glance.

He opened his mouth, but just then, Emmanuel entered with Belle close behind.

" _There_ you are! I should have known this is where you would all hide," the king sighed. He handed his wife a gold coin. "You win again, love."

Belle chuckled and stored the winnings in her pocket. "Never doubt a mother's intuition, dear." She turned back to her children and shook her head. "May I ask where you've all been today? I haven't seen even a trace of your tail coats all day."

"Oh, nowhere important, Mama. Ophelia and I were just in the castle."

"Where in the castle, exactly?"

Camilla swung her feet up and curled them behind her bottom. "Well, we were in the West Wing, and the storage area . . . lots of places."

Belle sighed. "Did you not hear me calling?"

Ophelia shrugged. "You know how hard it is to hear things in those chambers, Mother. You can't be sure of anything."

The queen shook her head. "Your lies are usually more believable, Ophelia. You've lost your touch."

While the elder princess blushed, the mother turned to her boys. "And you? What sort of explanation do you have for being missing all day?"

"I was at the archery-"

"I didn't mean you, dear." Belle crossed her arms and stared at Henri. "Go on."

Henri blushed. "Didn't Damien tell you I went hunting?"

"Oh yes, and I almost believed him until I saw your birds still in their cages. And the dogs. And your favourite hunting clothes. Oh, and how could we forget your best gutting knife?"

Henri lowered his gaze. "I may have taken a—slight detour."

Belle nodded. "Where, exactly, did that detour lead you?"

Emmanuel placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Might we continue this interrogation later, darling? I'd like to discuss something with the children."

Belle sighed. "Fine, fine. Do as you please. I'm going to find that book." With that, the queen disappeared down one of the long, dust filled aisles.

The king looked back at his eldest. "You should be grateful I stopped her when I did. Personally, I don't want to know what mischief you got up to today. There are more important things to discuss. Come, I have something to show you all."

Ophelia followed her father's lead to the window. She watched as he pulled out a cushioned bench for himself. Camilla went up the stairs and thrust her legs between the bars, watching the others move below her. The twins stole couch cushions and Ophelia opted to stand, leaning slightly against the ledge.

Emmanuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick slab of rolled-up parchment. He unfurled it then extended it to Ophelia.

"Cogworth drew up the documentation for my heir. I talked this over with the boys this morning, but I wanted you girls to see it before I signed it."

"What does it say?" Camilla asked.

"Henri is to be my heir, followed by his sons. If something were to happen to him or his sons, Damien would inherit the kingdom, along with his sons."

"And if something were to happen to him?" Ophelia asked.

"Then your sons would be next, followed by Camilla's, if need be."

The princess nodded. She glanced at Damien who hadn't said a word about this before.

 _Perhaps that was why he did archery, to forget this mess._

Truthfully it wasn't that much of a mess. Still, Ophelia wondered why he gave up his claim. 'He would make a wonderful king, if he had a chance.'

"So you agree then, this is something you are happy with?"

Camilla agreed along with Ophelia. Emmanuel nodded. "Good. Then I will have the paper sealed and we have forget about that."

The youngest smiled. "Papa, may I go get a snack from the kitchen?"

Emmanuel shook his head. "Not yet, ma petite. There is something else I need to speak to you about." He folded his hands in his lap and straightened his back. "For a year now, I have been thinking of how to keep this kingdom safe. Since Helena is still out there, there is no guarantee another war will not start. We did well the first time, but it might be different next time, and I would rather have a few assurances on my side."

"What kind of assurances?" Ophelia asked.

"Alliances."

The princess swallowed. "With who?"

"As many kingdoms as possible." Emmanuel looked to Henri. "You must marry, Son. England has not always loved us, but our relationship with them dates back centuries. Princess Anne would be the best match for you." The king shifted in his seat. "Damien, I have not yet decided anything, but Cogsworth and I are working hard to find a suitable lady for you."

When Emmanuel looked at his daughter, Ophelia clutched the ledge. He couldn't possibly have someone for her, could he?

"The King of Germany has a grandson close to your age. I've sent a letter requesting he come to court to properly carry out an engagement."

Her ears started to ring. Her father's mouth kept moving, but the words became unintelligible sound. She took deep breathes, trying not to scream, but the urge grew and grew until her fear turned to rage.

"How dare you!"

Emmanuel blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"How dare you! Sending us to the highest bidder, like we're cattle! And what will you do with Camilla when she is of age? Who will win her?"

The king sighed. "Ophelia, she _is_ of age and the King of Spain's son is a good man. We were friends when we were young . . ."

"Then why don't you marry him instead, Father?"

Emmanuel narrowed his eyes. "I understand this is not something you want, but I am your father, and the king. I decide who you will marry."

"You may by the king, but I can't see a father deciding to do this when he's known true love. Don't you want that for us?"

"Ophelia, dear, I don't like this any more than you do," said Belle as she came from around the corner. "But please understand the circumstances. True love broke a curse, but it does not keep a kingdom safe."

The princess let out a cracked laugh. "I can't believe you would say such a thing! Either of you!"

Henri cleared his throat. "I don't mean to interrupt your rant, Sister, but I do have something to say." He turned to the king. "Father, I cannot marry Anne. I am already married."

Everyone stared at the heir. Ophelia's mouth hung open.

"What?" her papa whispered.

Henri produced a document from his pocket. "Magdalene and I exchanged marital vows in a chapel in her town. She wears my ring and the document was signed by a priest. Our marriage is a consummated union, and by all accounts there is nothing anyone can do to separate us." He handed the paper to Emmanuel.

Ophelia saw Damien turn white. He nearly fell off the bench. Belle covered her mouth with one hand while the other gripped her sleeve.

"Oh Henri, what have you done?" she whispered.

The eldest looked at his mother. "What you did, Mother. Married for love." He smiled. "I don't regret it."

Emmanuel tore the document in half. "You are the Crown Prince of this kingdom, you cannot marry some villager on a whim. It is _my_ choice, not yours!"

"She isn't some villager, she's my wife!"

The king pushed back his stool. "Don't you say that, don't even think it!" He shook his head. "I will send for Magdalene in the morning, along with her father, and this priest. By sundown, this marriage will have never happened."

Henri glared at the elder. "It did happen, Father. You cannot pretend it away, and you cannot annul the marriage. We were married before God."

"I don't want to hear another word of this! No more! One day you will understand."

Ophelia narrowed her eyes as they welled up with hot tears. "I understand perfectly, Father," she whispered. "I only wish I did not." She pushed herself away from the ledge and ran for the door. She flung the wood open as Belle called for her to return. She did not listen.

 _Fight for her, Henri. Do not let Father win._

Ophelia jiggled the handle on Nicholas' door open and nudged it open wider with her hip. She quietly shut it behind her, leaning back against the solid wood. Tears trickled down her face, but she bit back the sobs.

Something sighed. The princess glanced in the living room and saw Nan curled up on the couch. She looked cozy underneath the blankets with a pillow shoved underneath her head. Ophelia sighed then placed a few more logs in the fire place.

Above her, a floorboard creaked. Nicholas. She wiped her cheeks, attempting to take a deep breath, then hurried up the staircase.

By the time she reached his room, she could see the candlelight pouring out from underneath the doorway. She didn't wait to catch her breath, instead walking straight in as her vision blurred from tears.

"I thought you weren't coming."

The knight sat before the fire with an injured bird in his lap. The sparrow's wing appeared to be broken, but she couldn't be sure. His back was towards her

She laced her arms around her waist, gripping her skin hard. "I had to," she whispered.

Nicholas raised his head from his work but didn't turn around. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling as she did so.

"My father . . . he told me I am going to be married to—to further an alliance. That's all he sees me as, this, this _cow_ he can bid me off for a couple of coins." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I hate him."

"I understand you are upset, but Ophelia this is not uncommon. You should know better than anyone ladies are used to further-"

"I know, but he's my father! He should know—he married for _love_ , Nicholas! Love! The greatest thing humans have ever done is love each other, and he wants me to live without that. He wants _all_ of us to. Do you know what he told Henri? He said—he said by tomorrow it will be as if you never married Magdalene. All Henri has _ever_ wanted is to be happy and now he's having that taken from him just because he has to marry a bloody princess." She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Well damn him! Damn them all!" she cried. "It isn't fair."

Nicholas set the sparrow in the makeshift nest and picked himself up off the ground. She heard his footsteps, felt his breath on her cheek, and she tried to stop crying but the longer she thought on what her father had done, what her mother had _let happen_ , she couldn't keep herself from almost falling to her knees.

He caught her, one arm curved around her bottom while the other pressed firmly against her head, guiding it to rest against his shoulder. He sighed and pressed his warm cheek to her cool one. She wanted to hear him say he would fix everything. She wanted a way out, but as she held on to Nicholas, she realized there was none. If Emmanuel was willing to split apart his son with a woman he so obviously loved, how was she ever going to convince him to let her out of her premature engagement? How would she bring about Nicholas, the knight who no one even knew existed?

 _It's impossible._ She couldn't even marry him in secret. _It would end just like Henri and Magdalene._

Nicholas picked her up off the floor and placed her on the mattress. She waited for his weight to sink down beside her, but instead she heard the bird chirping. The door opened, shut, and then opened again. The candles were blown out. She caught the heavy scent of smoke. Soon, that familiar sinking occurred and she buried herself against his side. Nicholas pulled the blankets up over their heads and he gently pried her hands away from her face. His thumbs pressed firm circles against the backs of her hands as he waited.

When she did look at him, the moonlight was coming in strong, shining right through the sheets. Half of him was in shadows, but the parts that weren't were staring right at her. She sniffed, watching him watching her then leaned her forehead against his.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered.

Nicholas brushed his nose against hers. "Fight," he replied. "Win."

She wasn't sure what he meant, or what that would entail, but at least he hadn't told her to marry the king and forget him.

 _I can never forget you._


	26. Chapter 25

"And that's what happened! You understand why I had to come over, don't you?" asked Damien.

His grandfather nodded as he poured himself another cup of tea. The wooden table, covered by a decorative table cloth, groaned as Maurice rested his arms against its surface.

"Seems to me like you certainly had an eventful night. And you say Ophelia hasn't come home yet?"

Damien shook his head. "No one has seen her since last night. I checked with her friends, but they say she never came to stay with them."

Maurice took a sip of his tea. "Hmm, well, it seems to me like you've done everything you can. If she doesn't want to be found, you likely won't catch her," he chuckled. "It was the same with your mother. Never could keep an eye on her long enough to make sure she stayed put."

The prince sighed. "That's another thing that's bothering me. Why would Mother let Father arrange these marriages? She must have known Ophelia, and Henri, wouldn't want anything to do with them."

"Sometimes a mother has to do the hard thing," Mrs. Potts said from her post at the sink. "Belle is a smart woman. She knows this is one of the kingdom's only chances to stay protected. She's not a villain, dear. Neither of them are."

Damien nodded. "I know. To be honest, I'm not that worried about the whole thing myself. After all, it's not as if anyone would willingly marry me," he chuckled.

Mrs. Potts glared at the lad. "Now who told you such a thing? You're a fine man, just like my Chip, and any lady would be lucky to have you for a husband."

He blushed. "Come now, Mrs. Potts. Look at me!"

"What, you think that eye makes any difference? Look at your father! You're a far cry better than he was during the curse."

"That's not the point, and you know it, Madame."

"Alright, alright, settle down you two. I believe the point of this visit was not to discuss Damien's appearance, am I correct?"

Mrs. Potts shook her head. "I know, but you can't let the boy think he's-"

"I'm not condoning his thinking, dear! But let's get back to the point, shall we? You're concerned, as you have every right to be. How is your brother?"

"Oh yes, the poor dear. Didn't even get to truly celebrate his wedding," Mrs. Potts said, shaking her head. "He should have brought her here. We would have gladly put her up for the night. The house does get a bit lonely without Chip around," she sighed.

Maurice rolled his eyes. "Yes dear, but back to the point?"

Damien leaned back in his chair, the pink pillow acting as a wonderful prop for his sore back. "After Ophelia stormed out, Henri left to his room. I tried to get in, but he wouldn't let me. He wasn't there for breakfast, so I can't say for sure if anything has changed. I know Magdalene was near the castle when I left to see you. I didn't want to be around for the whole debacle."

"Good idea, I doubt this will go over quietly. Now tell me, what do _you_ think of Henri's grand idea?"

Damien paused. He hadn't spent much time thinking on the whole wedding per say, so much as he worried about what Emmanuel would do if the marriage was not annulled as easily as he hoped. Yes, it was a bold gesture by his brother, but it wasn't well thought out at all. He was happy for the union, but the timing sat horridly wrong. It was _his_ fault, he just knew it was.

 _I shouldn't have told him about Anne. Then everything would be fine._

Not quite fine, for Ophelia would likely still be missing, but at least Henri wouldn't have to go through all this.

"I don't know what to think, Grandfather. Magdalene is wonderful, but-"

"She's not worth the kingdom's safety, is that it?"

"From the viewpoint of a prince, no."

"Ah, but don't forget, princes are also humans. You feel love just the same as anyone else."

Mrs. Potts nodded. "There's just a duty attached to you, one you can't shake." She sighed. "Poor dears. I wish there was something that could be done to make it all better."

Maurice smirked. "Somehow I think our meddling would not be appreciated at this time. Belle and Emmanuel have to work this out with the children themselves. And it certainly won't be easy."

Damien sighed. "I'm concerned about Camilla as well. She didn't say a thing after the others left. I saw her walking towards her room but, with Henri in mind . . ."

"I'm sure Camilla is handling the news the best way she can," Maurice said. "Just as you and the others will, in time." He finished his tea then leaned back in his rocking chair with a sigh. "Did I ever tell you how I met your grandmother? It's quite a tale, when I think back on it now."

The prince sipped his tea, shaking his head. "I don't remember you ever doing so. I'd like to hear it now, if you don't mind." Any distraction at this point would be most welcomed.

Maurice poured himself his third cup of tea then rested against his chair. "Where to begin," he muttered. "Ah yes. Paris. That's where it all began. I was a young man from the country, barely old enough to ride a horse, when I rode into town one morning with the idea of becoming a great inventor. I had six older brothers, all willing to take over the farm, so my disappearance went unnoticed, at least until harvest. Anyhow, I came to the city and found work as a carpenter. While carrying long sheets of wood, I saw a woman dancing on the corner of the street." He closed his eyes. "To this day I can still remember her dancing. She never stopped after we married. Not until her death."

He cleared his throat. "So I saw her there and ended up walking into a crowd of people with this wood. My boss was terribly angry with me for nearly damaging the wood," he chuckled. "After work was done, I set off to find that dancer. It was easier than I expected, thankfully. When she saw me watching her, she proceeded to ignore me the rest of the time I watched. When she was done, I walked right up to her and asked her name. 'Gypsies don't give their names,'" she said.

"She grabbed her bag of coins then left me there to stand around like a fool. She always made me feel silly," he chuckled. "Well, after that I just had to know her. Every day I watched her dance and every day she ignored me, until the winter came. I saw her out there freezing to death and when I offered her a bowl of soup, she took the offer to come inside the loft I rented. It was still slow progress from there. I didn't get her name for another two months, but in the end, she began to trust me and by summer we were best friends.

"I wanted to marry her, but whenever I asked she kept telling me she couldn't, not outside the family at least. I suppose that had something to do with her tribe, but I didn't ask. She stayed all the same, and I learned many things from her."

"You did marry her, didn't you?"

Maurice nodded. "Oh yes, when we discovered she was going to have a baby. The tribe was furious with her, especially when she moved in permanently. The wedding was short and baby Belle was born four months later. I found time to tinker on my projects while she danced during the day to make money with Belle tightly wrapped to her chest. Everything was wonderful, until suddenly it wasn't.

"When Belle was four, a new justice minister made it his mission to get rid of every gypsy in Paris. He caught my wife dancing while Belle was with me at work. When I came home, Leonora was gone and our home had been ransacked. I . . . I don't know what they did to her, but when I saw her last, she was so broken. She could barely stand," he whispered. "I hid Belle with my boss' family and hid in the crowd as she was tied to a stake to be burned. I watched . . . and I haven't been able to get the image out of my mind."

Damien stared at his grandfather, wondering if this was real. It sounded too awful to be true.

Mrs. Potts sighed. "Now Maurice, why would you tell such a sad story? He doesn't need to hear that!"

"It's his history, Eleanor! He does need to know." Maurice looked over at the prince. "After that, I only went back to Paris once, before we came to this village. I showed Belle her mother's cross that I erected in the graveyard. One day, I'll show you."

Mrs. Potts shook her head. "Would you like something to eat, dear?"

Damien declined as he pushed back his chair. "I'd best be getting back to the castle. I wouldn't want the castle to burn down in my absence."

Maurice chuckled. "I'm sure you could put it back together just fine. You have my craftsmanship, after all."

Damien hugged his grandfather then gave Mrs. Potts a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for the tea." He shut the door behind him and started the long walk home.

"Papa, please! We love each other, can't you see?"

"Magdalene, you are my daughter, but above all else I serve the king. If he decrees this marriage be annulled, then that is what shall happen!"

"But Papa!"

"Enough, both of you. Lady Magdalene, while you are a fine woman of good breeding, I cannot allow this marriage to last. My son is to be king. He needs a queen to rule by his side."

"Magdalene _is_ my queen, Father."

"Enough!" The king's fist hit the desk. "Cogsworth, do you have the papers?"

"Y-Yes, Sire."

"Good. Sir, are you prepared to sign the necessary forms to end this union?"

"If it is what your majesty desires, yes."

"Sign."

"No, Papa please!"

Damien heard the scrawling of ink on paper echoed by Magdalene's cries. As he leaned up against the door, he heard his father sigh.

"Thank you for being cooperative. You sir, are you the one who married them?"

"Y-Yes Sire, b-but I didn't know who they were! They came to the chapel a-and I just assumed-"

"Next time, before you assume anything, make sure one of them isn't a prince," Emmanuel growled. "You may all leave now."

"Father, can't we have just one more night together? Please? I beg of you, I love her."

"No. Sir, I wish we could have met under better circumstances. Have a safe journey home."

Damien heard scuffling and could only imagine what was going on. When the door opened, he stepped back, halfway leaning against the wall with his eyes focused on the ground. He saw Magdalene's boots walk past him and heard her sniffles. When he looked up, her back was to him but he saw her shoulders shaking. He swallowed.

"If you weren't my father, I'd kill you," Henri whispered, his voice thick with tears.

"One day, when your kingdom is safe and your sons don't have to die in battle, you'll thank me."

"I will _never_ thank you for this."

Damien heard footsteps and expected it to be his father, but when he saw Henri brush past him, the younger caught up to him.

"Henri, wait! Slow down."

The elder whipped around and glared at his brother. "He did it Damien, he took her away! I can never—will never—see her again!"

"Henri, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

"Bring her back!" A tear fell from his eye. "Or kill me." His jaw trembled and the prince gasped. "I can't believe this happened," he whispered. "I just can't."

Damien stepped forward and took his brother in his arms. "You will, Brother. You must," he replied quietly. 'And I will be here for you.'

Violins played quietly in the background as the ball progressed. Damien stood at the top of the staircase, watching the courtiers proceed to flutter around the hall. They knew nothing, he realized, of what had happened that day. Damien guessed his father wanted to keep this a private matter. The longer he stood there, the more he wanted to scream.

He wished Henri was there. The man always knew how to liven up a party. Unfortunately, he wasn't very lively at the moment. Damien saw to escorting the prince to his room, but after that, Cogsworth took over. At first the elder wanted nothing to do with the man who drew up such evil papers, but by then the door was shut in Damien's face, leaving Henri and Cogsworth alone. The advisor was at the party now, but he informed the prince someone was with Henri now.

"I would not like him left alone at this time."

Damien agreed that was for the best. He asked the man if he felt sorry for what he did.

"I did as your father asked, Damien. Nothing more. Try to enjoy the evening, won't you?"

He was trying, but his mind kept wandering to Ophelia. He hadn't seen her all day.

Camilla appeared beside him in a dress of gold and gloves that cut off at her wrists. He smiled at her. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you," she sighed. "It's quite uncomfortable actually, but it made Mama smile."

"I presume she hasn't been doing a lot of that since yesterday."

"No, and I wish she would. Papa said he has sent guards to look for Ophelia. They think she's run away."

Damien shrugged. "It's possible. Or she could be hiding."

Camilla nodded. "How is Henri?"

"Horrid, as expected. I don't know if he'll ever get over this."

"He'll have to, for the kingdom's sake."

He smiled bitterly. "You sound like Father."

Camilla sighed. "I don't want to marry this Spanish man any more than Ophelia wants to marry that German, but we don't have a choice. None of us do. Henri should have known that."

"He did, he just didn't give a damn."

"I know, and that's what worries them."

Damien glanced at her. "I gather, then, you won't be running off or kicking and screaming on your wedding day?"

"What good would that do? If Father needs a union with Spain, I can give him one."

"And sacrifice a chance at love?"

She shrugged. "Would it be a sacrifice? Love could be there in Spain. I've never been there before. It could be in Germany as well."

"But that's not where Ophelia wants it to be."

"That's because she's already found it here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you know something?"

"I know love when I see it. Or haven't you been watching them all these years?" she asked while pointing to their parents.

Damien nodded. "She did argue for true love yesterday, perhaps they know too."

"But they don't know where she keeps it, or who the man is. That makes things more difficult."

"True. I suppose that's another secret we'll both have to keep."

Camilla smiled. "I'm sure it will share itself soon enough. Are you going to dance with me?"

Damien took her hand in his. "Of course."

Despite missing practice, the prince performed quite well. It helped that Camilla was light, making the lifts much easier. Once the song ended, they bowed and Damien looked for a glass of wine. Instead, he bumped into a lady.

"Oh, I do apologize!" he said, hoping he hadn't split her drink on her red dress.

She blushed. "There's nothing to be sorry for at all, Sire! I was in your way."

"Hardly, I should have been watching where I was going. Now, please, let me get you another drink. I'm afraid most of yours is on the floor."

She glanced at the evidence then shook her head. "It's not necessary, Sire, really."

He smiled. "Please, I insist, and you may call me Damien."

The lady gave a hesitant nod. "If you insist." He grabbed another glass then handed it to her. He realized the red liquid matched the colour of her hair.

"Have we met before?" he asked as his gaze travelled to her dark brown eyes.

"No, I've never been to the castle, except to retrieve my husband over a year ago."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your husband? Does he attend court?"

She shook her head. "No, he—he was a solider during the war. He died."

"I-I'm so sorry, milady. What was his name?"

"Hamlin Westwater, your grace."

Damien's eyes widened. The knight, the one who saved him from the stabbing in their first village. The prince stared at the lady.

"And what is your name?"

"Rosemary."

"Lady Rosemary, your husband was a good man. He saved my life. I am, in turn, in your debt. If there is anything you need, anything at all, you only need to ask."

She smiled. "I actually do need something, Prince Damien. My son is ill, and my father looks after him now. Sir Cogsworth promised to pay me my husband's dues, but he has not as of late, and I am in desperate need of medication that could save my son."

Damien nodded. "How much is the medication?"

"Thirty francs."

The prince reached into his pocket and pulled out a satchel. "This should hold enough to take care of the medicine and anything else you may require."

He watched her stare at the bag in awe before taking it and pulling open the strings. She dug around, feeling how much was roughly in there, then looked back up at him. "Do you always carry fifty francs with you?"

Damien shrugged. "I've accumulated enough pocket change."

She smirked. "This would get me through a month on the farm."

"You have a farm?"

"Yes, it was Hamlin's before he died. I take care of it now, with my father's assistance." She curtseyed. "Thank you, Prince Damien. I'm afraid I must be off."

"Do you need an escort?"

"Oh no, Your Grace. I'll be perfectly fine on my own."

He nodded. "And you're sure you can't stay behind for one dance?"

She blushed. "I shall have to decline, Prince Damien. My son needs me."

Damien sighed. "Then I bid you a safe trip, Lady Rosemary."

"Call me Rose."

He nodded. "Rose."

She picked up her skirts and left in a hurry. A part of him wondered if she actually had a sick son, or if she merely wanted money. He didn't want to think she had tricked him, but even if she had, it didn't matter. That money was of more use to her on the farm than it was collecting dust in his pocket. And yet, he would have liked just one dance with her.

 _Fool, what makes you think she would ever want to dance with you in the first place?_

The prince shook his head then set about finding another glass of wine. Perhaps Henri was in need of a refreshment.


	27. Chapter 26

Nan nudged Ophelia with her foot from across the couch. "Explain to me again why you can't just tell your father you won't marry the German?"

Underneath the comforter, Ophelia lightly kicked Nan back. "Because he wouldn't accept that? Do you honestly think if I told him no it would make any difference? You know as well as any that a daughter is her father's property until marriage."

"Yes, but he's a reasonable man. He must know this isn't ideal."

"Of course he does, but he's a king first and a father second. I can't exactly blame him for thinking of the kingdom's protection first."

Nicholas tossed another log onto the fire. "The real question is what you're going to do now, I suppose."

Ophelia nodded and leaned back against the couch. "Any suggestions?"

"It's not for me to decide."

She sighed. "Nicholas."

"What? I'm being honest. The last thing you need from either of us, especially me, is to tell you what to do. It has to be your choice."

The princess stared at his back, watching as he bent to pick up another log. "You told me to fight and win. Well, how do I do that?"

Nan placed a finger on her chin and hummed to herself. "You could give the prince a black eye. I'm sure he won't want to marry you after that!"

She chuckled. "While it's tempting, he's not the problem. I'm sure the prince is a good fellow. Or at least decent. He's just unfortunate enough to have me for a prospective wife."

"No matter what you do, it has to be quick. It's been two days. For all you know, he could be here already!" Nan pointed out.

"I know," she sighed. "Why do you think I haven't gone home yet?"

Nan sat up and grabbed the pot of tea, pouring everyone a cup. "There is the obvious decision, you know."

Ophelia took her cup and took a sip. "Oh? And what would that be?"

Nan pushed a pillow against her lower back. "You two could get married."

The princess choked on her tea. "What?"

"Don't look so shocked you two!" she laughed. "It's not as if I'm suggesting you two produce a healthy litter of pups. But the marriage would solve the issue of that German fellow, wouldn't it?"

Ophelia looked over at Nicholas. His cheeks were bright red and he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"I'm not so sure, Nan. Look at what happened to Henri. I'm sure by now Father has annulled the marriage. I couldn't marry then come back to the castle."

"Who says you have to?"

The princess blinked. "Well, no one, I suppose, but that would mean leaving home for a good, long time."

Nan nodded. "Leaving the country, more or less."

"Exactly."

"It's either that or the prince." Nan leaned over and took Ophelia's hands in hers. "I'm not saying you must do it, but think about it, Ophelia. You'll have to leave either way. If you marry the German, you'll have to live with him and you'll never see any of us again. At least this way you have a chance."

Ophelia stared at their locked hands and sighed. Nan retracted hers and got up off the couch. "I'll go make breakfast. What would you like?"

The princess leaned back against the couch again. "I have no appetite."

"Toast with jam it is. Nicholas?"

"The same, please," he murmured.

Once Nan was gone, Ophelia closed her eyes and sunk back further against the couch. She heard Nicholas' footsteps across the rug and the couch sunk as he sat down beside her. She curled her feet away from him, but he placed them gently on his lap.

"She makes a valid point, you know," he said quietly.

"I know. But is it what you want?"

"What I want?"

"Yes, is it? Because I can't guarantee we could ever come back to this place once we wed. All your things, except for some, we might never see again. It's asking so much, on both our parts," she sighed.

"If you don't want to marry me-"

She sat up. "Nicholas, this isn't about marrying you. You know I would do anything to be with you, but we have to be reasonable."

He glanced at her. "So that's a no?"

Ophelia covered one of his hands in hers. "Let me ask you this. If it were another time, another place, if we were different people . . . would you run off with me? Would you give this all up?"

He nodded. "I would have married you last year."

"Why didn't you?"

He smirked. "Because you're the Crown Princess of France, for God's sake."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm still that, you know."

"I know. But now," he placed his hand atop hers. "Now I can lose you if we don't marry."

"So you're marrying me just as a last resort?"

Nicholas sighed. "Ophelia, what do you want me to say?"

She leaned back against the couch with a groan. "I don't know! I just . . . I don't want to run away."

He squeezed her hand. "Have you thought of it as running towards something, instead of away?"

"And what would I be running to?"

"Happily ever after?"

Ophelia snorted. "Now you sound like a fairy tale."

"Didn't your parents have one?"

"I suppose so."

"From what I recall, your mother didn't run away from anything. Neither did your father. So instead of beating yourself up about this, tell me, right now, if you want to marry me." He dipped his head, catching her gaze. "Will you?"

Ophelia stared at him for a moment, then sat up and brushed her lips against his. "Where will we go?" she asked quietly, resting her head against his shoulder. Nicholas latched his arm around her lower back and moved her onto his lap.

"That's the nice thing about adventures, Princess. You don't always know the destination in advance."

She smacked his chest. "Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

"I'll have to when we leave."

"Breakfast is ready!" Nan called.

"Can you bring it in here? I just got comfortable."

Nan stuck her head out the kitchen doorway. "Since when did I become your maid?"

"Since you'll be looking after Nicholas' home while we're gone?"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me?"

She looked up at him. "Well, do you have a better idea?"

He pursed his lips. "No, I suppose I don't. I can't pay her anything, you know."

Nan shook her head. "I'm sure those vegetables you grow will sell for something in the village."

"Just don't bring back strangers and we'll be just fine," said Ophelia.

"I won't, now get up and eat something. You can't stay here all day."

With a collective groan, the pair pushed themselves off the couch and towards the smell of food.

'If I get a bag ready, I should be able to leave by tonight. I can't leave letters, that would only make it harder,' she sighed. 'Either way they'll hate me.'

Just as Ophelia was rounding the bend to the castle, she spotted a group of soldiers marching through the field. The captain called orders from his horse.

"Search every tree and bush! We will not leave until we find her."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. What in the world were they searching for with such intensity? She caught one of the men saying her name.

 _Ah, that's right, I haven't been home for a while._ She wondered if they had been at this since she left.

She exited the brush and walked through the field. One of the men spotted her and went over.

"Princess!"

"Yes?"

"You must come back to the castle. We have orders to bring you to your parents."

Ophelia's stomach twisted. Somehow, she had a feeling it wouldn't be a nice, friendly chat. "How long have you been searching for me?"

The captain rode up, his long, grey mustache twitching profusely. "Two days, Your Grace. Next time you decide to disappear, perhaps you should let His Majesty know."

She raised her chin and walked right past him. "I know the way home myself. I was just on my way."

The one who originally spotted her trotted over and lifted her onto his horse. "His Majesty would prefer you ride with us. The less distractions, the better."

Ophelia wanted to hit him, but instead she took the reins and forced the horse into a gallop. The man nearly fell off his saddle, but in the last minute he took the reins from her and pulled them to a halt.

"And what, pray tell, was that all about?"

She glanced at the blonde man. "You said I need to see my parents. Wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

He huffed and, with a crack of his whip, they were off again.

By the time the solider had lifted her off the saddle, much to her displeasure, the rest of the soldiers were in the courtyard complaining of breakfast. Ophelia waved over a servant and requested a meal be brought to the men in their private dining hall.

"Make sure to bring a profuse amount of wine with you," she added in a whisper.

The young girl nodded and dashed off to the kitchen. Ophelia straightened her smock then headed inside, leaving the grumpy soldiers behind.

After asking around, she found her parents in the throne room. Belle had before her a stack of papers beside her golden throne with only a small table in front of her. A bottle of ink and parchment rested atop its surface, but from her position she couldn't read the writing. Emmanuel had yet to notice her. Cogsworth was by his side, whispering something in the man's ear.

When the king did look over, Ophelia curtseyed. "I was told you were looking for me?"

Emmanuel stared at her just as his wife raised her head. Belle smiled. "We're glad to see you back, dear. I was worried you ran off."

 _Not yet,_ she thought. "No, Mama, why would I do that?"

"You weren't exactly pleased with us when I told you of the arrangement," Emmanuel reminded.

She wanted to tell him she still hated the thought of marrying that prince, and that she had no intention of fulfilling her father's promise, but she pressed her lips together in a thin line instead. If she argued, Emmanuel would become cross. She did not want her last memories of her father to be of him shouting, and she certainly didn't want Belle to keep the image of her daughter and husband shouting in her mind while Ophelia was gone.

"So," the king said as he rested his hands on his lap, "have you consented to the marriage?"

Ophelia glanced at her mother, whose eyes held such pleading hopes, then to Cogsworth. She had no doubt the man's job would be much easier if she did go through with the wedding. Finally, she stared at her father, who, surprisingly, didn't look as hopeful as she thought he would. In fact, he looked somewhat . . . sad.

"I . . . I would like to meet him first. If it pleases you."

That would hopefully hold him off for the time being. After all, Germany was a few weeks travel, by that time she would already be gone.

Emmanuel turned to Cogsworth and nodded. The man cleared his throat.

"Introducing Prince Burk of Germany."

The back doors swung open and, upon turning, Ophelia was met with the German prince.

He had a big nose for one so average. The mass of black curls was an easy distraction, but the locks were pulled back, much like Damien's often was. She couldn't help but stare as he walked towards her, long arms and all. Burk was dressed well enough in red velvet and his crown certainly sparkled with all the rubies attached. She saw his eyes, large and blue, staring at her with such intensity, she wondered if he realized how frightening he could be.

Once close enough, he bent on one knee and bowed his head. "It is an honour to meet you, Princess Ophelia."

His accent was thick and he stumbled over his French. She felt her parents' eyes on her backside so she did a quick, low curtsey. "Pleased to meet you as well, Prince Burk."

When Burk stood, she realized he was only an inch taller than her. 'He can't be more than sixteen,' she thought. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. It wasn't long before he bowed to her parents.

"Please accept these gifts I bring as a thank you for your invitation."

The doors opened again and the princess saw a few trunks be carried in by Burk's servants. Burk commanded they be opened, and upon seeing what lay inside, Ophelia sighed. Fabrics of all colours hid in one, while another carried mountains of gold coins. The last held a specially embroidered pillow and blankets stitched together with German fabric. She noticed the pillow had her name on it.

Belle smiled. "Such a kind gesture, Prince Burk. Thank you ever so much. Ophelia, don't you have anything to say?"

The princess cleared her throat. "Y-Yes, thank you, Sir. It is most generous of you."

He smiled. "You can expect more of that when you come to Germany. The land is fruitful, just as everything else," he said with a wink. She didn't trust that wink.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "How could I forget? There is one more thing I wish to give you." He walked over to the door and when he came back inside, he brought with him a puppy. She didn't recognize the breed, but it was so tiny she doubt she would know it offhand anyway.

"I was told you love animals. I too have a great affection for them. This one comes from my homeland, an original breed called a Pomeranian. She is very tiny, no?"

The mass of caramel fur wriggled in Burk's arms and its dark eyes followed Ophelia's glace. The princess tried to hold in a smile, but she giggled in the end.

"She certainly is. My mountain dog, Raoul, he is very big." She rested a hand near her waist. "Right here, this is where he comes to."

Burk grinned. "I will have to meet him, then. Here, hold her." He extended the pup and Ophelia cradled the animal in her arms. The dog reached up and licked her cheek.

"What's her name?"

"Amalie. It means work in German, and you will soon find she works very hard to cause mischief," he chuckled.

Ophelia smiled. 'For an arrangement, he isn't so bad.' She caught herself and gave a mental shake. 'What are you thinking? What about Nicholas?' She rang the bell for a servant. "Please take Amalie to my chambers and prepare a bed for her. She is likely tired after such a long trip."

Burk nodded. "You are wise, Princess. I too am quite tired. It has been a long journey for us all."

"Why don't you go rest as well, Sir? I'm sure my parents have something planned tonight, and it wouldn't do you any good to be asleep on your feet."

He laughed and she watched his eyes light up. He may be strange, but at least he knew how to laugh. "Very true. Your Majesty, where might my chambers be?"

Cogsworth waddled down the throne steps and bowed. "I shall lead you and your servants to them, Your Grace. Follow me, please."

Burk kissed Ophelia's hand again before departing. She waited until he and the rest of his crew were gone before turning back to her parents.

"That was a dirty trick you two played!"

Emmanuel raised an eyebrow. "Trick? Whatever do you mean?"

"You said you sent letters to ask the prince to come."

"That I did. I sent them a month ago."

Ophelia's eyes widened. "You've been planning this for a month?"

"I've been considering our alliances for a year, Ophelia. It is my job as king to always have that in the back of my mind."

She crossed her arms. "It was still a trick. You didn't give me any time to look presentable."

"Ophelia, dear, we wanted you two to meet when you are at your most casual," Belle said. "This is how you always are, and this is how he should meet you. He seems to like you well enough."

"He's practically a child, he doesn't know what he likes!"

"He's eighteen, Ophelia, and a prince born and bred. He's perfect for you," Emmanuel said. "That's why I chose him."

"It seems to me you already like him, at least a little," said her mother.

Ophelia huffed. "He may be a good companion, but I doubt he has the makings of a good husband, or a father for that matter. Doesn't he have a sister you could marry off to Damien?"

"Now Ophelia, that isn't fair," her father sighed. "I'm doing the best I can. Please, can't you understand that?"

"I didn't ask for this, Father. Neither did Camilla. When will she have to meet the Spaniard?"

Belle glanced at one of her parchments. "I just received confirmation from them now, dear. They'll be here within a few weeks."

"Before or after I am married to Burk?"

Emmanuel rubbed a hand against his forehead. "Ophelia . . ."

"It's a simple question, Father. Am I to be shipped off before or after this little charade?"

"It's hardly a charade. Burk will stay until Camilla has met the Spanish prince. To avoid any conflictions, you will leave with Burk to Germany together, where you will-"

"Marry and produce many future kings of the glorious country of Germany. Yes Father, I know what my life entails, thank you." She turned around and headed for the door. "I'll be in my chambers until dinner."

 _I can't believe this was all a trap! He knew I would say that and then I couldn't find a way to back out of the agreement. I can't—why did he have to be nice?_ she inwardly grumbled. Bringing puppies and pretty things with her name on it, being such a polite man . . . boy . . . she sighed. _He's going to be heartbroken when I leave._

She locked the door behind her and began pulling items out of her drawers. The puppy, she realized, was asleep on the pillow with Ophelia's name inscribed on it. She sighed. "I don't know if I should take you," she whispered to herself. "You are quite cute though." She shook her head and turned away from the dozing creature. Perhaps an answer would come to her as she got ready.

Ophelia thought about Germany. She could be happy there, maybe, if she allowed herself to be. But a part of her, even if it was just a tiny piece, would always want Nicholas, and the fact that he wanted her too made it impossible for her to accept what her parents wanted.

 _In time, they will understand._


	28. Chapter 27

"She could do worse," said Damien.

Henri nodded as the pair watched their sister dance with Prince Burk before the French court. The crowds had parted for the princess and her intended as soon as they settled in the center of the hall.

"Don't tell her that. I doubt she will consider herself lucky," Henri muttered.

"Oh, I won't. I have a feeling she will be kept busy most of the night. Entertaining a foreign prince comes with its challenges," he smirked.

Henri grabbed his glass and drained it of the red wine that lingered in the bottom of his cup. Damien watched his brother lean against the gold railing. The navy blue curtains brushed against the boy's arm, but he didn't seem to notice. Henri's gaze focused on the silver lining of his black cuffs.

"You didn't have to come, you know. They would have understood."

Henri shrugged. He spotted a maid coming up the stairwell and took the offered glass. "They need to see their future king every once and a while. Besides, it's no fun drinking alone."

Damien pressed his hand against his brother's shoulder. "You can't erase her with drink, Brother," he murmured.

Henri lowered his gaze, staring into the glass. "I can forget the pain," he whispered. "For now."

The younger sighed. "Just don't let Father see you. I don't think he enjoys seeing you so miserable."

Speaking of kings, Emmanuel and Belle watched their daughter from a pillar, hands intertwined and smiles on their faces. He wondered if they could see Ophelia's obvious discomfort.

Henri's grip around his glass tightened. "Then he should not have caused such misery." The elder looked up at Damien. "Did you feel like this when you lost your sight?"

Damien considered the question, pressing his fingers lightly against the scarred flesh. "I suppose I did, perhaps not right away, but when I knew it would never heal, that there was no cure . . . then yes, I have never felt more pain in all my life. Sometimes, I awaken in the night and when everything is dark, I think . . . I think I have lost all sight and I cannot breathe from such fear." He placed his hand over Henri's. "There is still hope for you, though. Hearts recover. Yours will too. You don't know what the future holds, Brother."

Henri shook his head. "An English cow, that's what I will have. I—I only had her for one day, Damien. One day to call her wife. When we were in battle together, I thought it was all a dream, that I should find her and love her, but . . . it's all just a nightmare now. A mess." He ran a hand over his face. "Why couldn't Father see her as I do?"

Damien didn't know what to say. He gave Henri's hand a squeeze then focused back on the dancing. The crowd clapped as Burk bowed before his princess. Ophelia's teal skirts swept across the golden tiles as she gave a lavished curtsey. He saw her disappear into the crowd with Burk hot on her trail. In a matter of seconds, both were lost to the colourful costumes.

His gaze wandered through the crowd, and while he did so, he saw a familiar face bobbing between courtiers.

"Rose?" he whispered.

Henri stared at Damien. "Pardon?"

Damien shook his head and walked around his brother. He squinted, wondering what she was doing back here so soon. Shouldn't she be with her son, or on the farm? He stood on the platform that combined both staircases and waited. He wasn't sure for what, but his heart kept beating loudly, he couldn't hear his own thoughts anymore.

Tonight she was held together by a pale blue dress with faded lilacs and sleeves that cupped her elbows. Her white gloves matched his own, but he noticed hers crept up past her sleeve, hiding inside the folds of old fabric.

She stopped a few steps below him and curtseyed.

"Damien," she greeted.

He cleared his throat, trying to find something to say, but he could only nod.

When she rose, she was smiling. "You didn't expect to see me again, did you?"

Damien shook his head. She laughed. "I didn't think I would be back either, but," she dug around in her pocket and pulled out the bag he gave her the night before. "I wanted to return this to you." He heard the jingle of coins. "It turns out the woman was lying about the cost. I shouldn't have been that surprised. Anyhow, I wanted to give you what was left. For your kindness."

The prince's eyes widened. She extended the coins, but he did not take them. Instead, his gaze drifted to her hair, put together in a wispy bun, and her eyes, dark and warm. He swallowed.

She noticed his stare and blushed. "If I had known you were having another party, I would have come better dressed."

He shook his head, folding his hands behind his back, and stepped down towards her. "You are perfect," he whispered. Upon realizing his verbal fumble, and hearing his brother's snort, he blushed. "Have you met my brother, Prince Henri?"

Rose smiled and glanced around him. "I haven't had the pleasure." She curtseyed. "Prince Henri."

The elder raised his half-empty glass in greeting. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, whoever you are."

Damien scowled. "Henri!" He glanced at Rose. "His manners are lacking today. I do apologize. Henri, this is Rosemary, the wife of the solider who saved my life."

Henri gave a nod. "Ah, well, all the more pleasure on my part then. Without him, I would be sorely lacking a brother." The prince shoved himself away from the railing and walked past the pair. "I'll leave you two to whatever it is you're doing. I need to find where they keep the good wine."

Once gone, Rose looked over at Damien. "Is he doing well? He seems-"

Damien shook his head. "He has had a trying time these past few days. I'd explain more, but I'm afraid some things I am bound to keep secret."

She nodded. "I understand. Now, are you going to take the money?"

He smirked. "Always to the point, aren't you? Here, sit, you appear as if you haven't slept in days." He motioned to the steps and after giving him a queer glance, she followed his lead.

"Truth be told, Your Grace, I have not slept much, but now that my son has his medicine, I can rest easy. Thanks to you," she pointed out while adjusting her skirts. Damien leaned back against the pale pink carpet, resting most of his upper body on his elbows.

"Think nothing of it. I'm just glad to hear it worked out for you both. Has Cogsworth sent you the money you requested?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet. Although he did promise to have it to me by the end of the week. Do I have you to thank for such a speedy reply?"

He chuckled. "For once, I cannot take the credit. The man has had a lot of his plate as of late, so his mind wanders, but now things should be settling down."

"Did they happen to be hectic because of a certain German prince?"

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Countryside gossip?"

She shrugged. "Call it intuition. You princes all have a natural tell."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

She laughed. "If I told you, it would be much harder to notice you in a crowd."

"You plan on forgetting me?"

Rose rested her arms against her knees and laughed again. "Not you, per say, but I'm sure all you princes talk together, and you'd tell them what I told you, and then where would us common folk be?"

He placed a hand over his breast and winced. "You wound me, my lady!" He smiled when she laughed again. He honestly hadn't thought he would ever make a lady laugh. Perhaps she was only humouring him. Damien shook his head. That was probably it.

Rose lifted the bag of gold again and shook it. "I don't suppose you are going to take the money, are you?"

Damien shook his head. "Do you want me to?"

"Well, Papa says we don't accept charity, and that besides the medicine, we didn't need anything else, so it should be returned to you. I do agree, of course, but having some extra money in my pocket did make me feel important, even if it was just for a day."

He chuckled. "You should have spent it in the marketplace. Or told your papa the medicine did indeed cost more than you thought it would."

She clucked her tongue. "Are you suggesting I lie to my papa? For shame, Sir Prince! I thought princes were supposed to be honourable?"

He smirked. "Only in fairy tales, milady."

She brushed aside a loose strip of auburn hair. "I like you, Sir Prince. You make me laugh," she smiled. "It's been a very long time since I laughed."

Damien blushed. "As awful as this sounds, it's been quite some time since I laughed as well." He glanced at her and smiled. "Would you like something to drink?"

Rose shook her head. "Not unless your brother is willing to share some of the good wine he finds," she teased.

Damien chuckled. "Somehow I doubt you can sway him, but I could offer you my private storage of cider, if you're willing to let me escort you home."

"That's bribery!"

"It's an honest trade."

"Why do you want to help me home? I made it here just fine," she reminded.

He shrugged. "Last time you disappeared so fast I didn't have a chance to even ask you to dance."

"You want to dance with me?"

His cheeks, just when they started to cool down, were on fire again. "Well—yes. Only if you want to, that is."

Rose chuckled. "You're a very silly prince you know. There are all these fine ladies waiting for their prince to ask them for a dance, yet here you are, sitting on the steps talking to me."

"What's wrong with talking to you?"

She shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose, if you want to hear all about my farm and my child."

He smiled. "It can't be as boring as you make it sound."

"Well, it's not a castle, that I'm certain of," she chuckled.

Damien stood and extended his hand to her. "Put that gold away and dance with me," he said quietly. "Please."

Rose shoved the bag in her pocket but didn't get up. "I really should be wearing something more . . . appropriate."

He took her hand in his and helped her up. "Didn't you hear me before?"

"I certainly did, but I took those words for lies."

He squeezed her hand, unsure it was really him doing that until he felt her return the gesture. "One thing I will admit, Madame, is princes don't lie."

Rose laughed from atop her bulky chestnut mare. The evening air had chilled them both substantially, but at least the cider kept them warm. Rose's dusty cloak flapped behind her, even at such a tame pace, and he noticed the sleeves covering her arms bristled against the chill.

"Dancing wasn't that awful, was it?" he chuckled.

"Oh I don't know, I can't say what everyone else thought, but I had fun."

"If it makes you feel any better, they were likely staring at me. I'm not exactly known for putting myself on display, especially with dancing of all things."

"Why is that, Sir Prince?"

Damien kicked his grey stallion into a steady trot, easily keeping up with Rose. "To put it simply, my scar has a tendency to draw unwanted attention. The best way to avoid that is to avoid people."

Rose stared at him. "What scar?"

He almost fell off his horse. Thinking she was joking, he started laughing. "Good one, Madame. You certainly are funny," he chuckled.

She kept her gaze on him as the mare lead the way. "I'm completely serious, Sir."

Hearing that, he looked from the rocky road to the woman. "You mean you haven't noticed?"

Rose shrugged. "Not particularly, no. Of course I've heard the gossip, but I don't put much weight in what people say. Anyhow, it doesn't matter if you have a scar or not. At least you're here. At least you're not . . ." she trailed off.

"Dead?"

Rose nodded. "Yes. Dead. At least you are not dead," she sighed.

Damien tightened his grip on the leather reins. "Rose," he said quietly, "I am sorry."

She looked over at him. "Whatever for?"

"Your husband would still be here if it hadn't been for my family. I can't imagine the loss . . . Is there nothing I can do to help?"

Rose smiled, but he noticed how sad it looked on her face. "Hamlin's purpose was to protect. He—He was very good at what he did. I won't tell you I don't miss him, or that I can forgive the one who killed him, but you, Damien, you did not kill him. And for that you should feel no guilt. Do you promise?"

He gave a nod. She turned back to the road and spurred the horse into a gallop. Along the winding road, Damien heard the calls of owls attempting to catch their pray. The air smelt of wheat begging to be harvested. The wind still bit him, but the chill subsided as they continued on. Every so often he caught her looking back at him, whether or not she was making sure he was keeping up was another matter, but he smiled in return all the same.

Finally they arrived to a half-open wooden gate. Rose trotted through with Damien right behind her. He heard the whinny of horses from the stable, and in a pen he saw the outline of cows. Baaing sheep counteracted the horses' song, and he was certain he heard something splashing in the large pond.

Rose led them to the barn. It was twice the size of the little cottage and looked suspicious with no lantern lit inside but he felt content when the horses began to greet their owner.

"You can tie yours up on the railing outside. There aren't enough stalls in here to fit him."

"What else do you have stuffed away in there?"

"Oh the usual mounds of hay, farming equipment, the occasional cat." She unbridled her mare then shut the stall gate behind her. "I'll be back later to give you a rub down," she promised.

Damien once again trailed behind her. The cottage was just as quiet as the barn. No lights were lit and he wondered where her father slept.

"Would you like to come in for a cup of tea before you head off?"

He glanced at the sky and sighed. "I would, but if I don't leave now, I doubt I will make it back in time to see the end of the celebration."

She smirked. "I doubt many people are left celebrating."

"True," he chuckled. "Next time?"

"You expect there to be a next time?"

"One can only hope."

She laughed. "Next time, then." Rose got to the door and turned to face the young man. "Thank you, Damien. It was nice to have someone to talk to on the ride home. The whole evening was—nice," she smiled. "Don't get lost."

It appeared to him like she was waiting for something, and as he suppressed the urge to give her a parting hug, she opened the door and disappeared inside with a wink. He raised an eyebrow, waited then sighed. Time for home, he supposed.

 _It's probably all for the best. A marriage is likely being arranged as we speak. I don't want to end up like Henri._ He had a feeling, though, that he was already stuck like his brother.


	29. Chapter 28

Ophelia pushed open the tall, oak door, taking her leave of the ballroom. Suddenly, the door became much lighter. She looked up to see Burk's hand higher up, holding open the door for her. He smiled, and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Off so soon, Princess?"

She nodded. "I should have followed your lead this afternoon Sir, and had that rest. I'm afraid I'm much too tired to dance any longer."

"Would you rather sit, then? I have many stories to tell, stories of my family and friends. I'm sure you must be curious about your future family."

The princess smiled. "While that sounds most entertaining, I'm afraid it's better for me if I rest now. I . . . I haven't been feeling well these past few days."

Burk took her arm and laced it through his. "Let me escort you to your room, then. I wouldn't want you to faint all alone on your way there."

She sighed. With no choice, she nodded and let him come with her. Along the way, she started to feel guilty again. She glanced up at him and noticed the freckles doting his nose. His skin was slick with a thin layer of sweat and she saw his dimples creasing lines in his fair skin. He was such a common man, she could almost love him.

"Tell me Burk, when you were informed of our engagement, were you happy?"

"Happy, milady?"

She nodded. "Did it . . . surprise you?"

"I cannot say I was expecting such a thing, but it has all turned out well, has it not?"

"I suppose so."

He smiled. "You will be a wonderful queen someday. Our sons will be strong and wise, and our daughters . . . our daughters will have your beauty."

Ophelia blushed. "Such kind words, Your Grace. You do me much kindness."

Burk patted the back of her hand. "You will see I am much like my country, rough to intruders, but to those I trust I am docile, like a lamb."

She wondered if he truly meant those things, or if he said them to keep up appearances. She had never been to Germany before.

When they came to her chamber, she grabbed the key from her pocket and took her arm away from his. She turned to bid him goodnight, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she felt his kiss upon the corner of her mouth. She remembered the role she had to play. Dutiful bride-to-be, such an awful thing. She leaned back against the door, placing a hand against the purple lapel of his tunic.

"Sir I—I fear you are growing too bold. Should we not wait until we are married before engaging in such-" she would have finished, but he kissed her again, softly at first, then he grew bold. She felt his hand squeeze her hip, his nose brushing against hers as their teeth clicked together. Ophelia grimaced, thankful his eyes were closed, then placed her hands firmly on his shoulders and forced him to step back.

"Burk, please—I am a lady, not some scullery maid waiting behind a curtain!"

The prince had the decency to blush, but she could feel something hard against her thigh and could only imagine what was going on with the man.

"I . . . I apologize, Princess. Please, forgive me. You are just, you're so beautiful and I—I could not wait any longer." He bowed his head. "Will you accept my most sincere apology?"

"I will Sir, and I will do you the decency of never mentioning this to anyone. Goodnight, Burk."

He tilted his head down and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Princess."

She saw him round the corner, and once alone, she pressed her back against the door and sighed. Ophelia pressed a hand over her chest, counting the beating of her heart. Those kisses, intended to draw her closer to Burk, only made her think of Nicholas. Her knees knocked together and she gripped the door handle tightly. She would be with him soon, then everything would be fine again.

The princess locked the door behind her. Amalie yipped from her pillow, wagging her tiny tail at the girl she would call Master. Raoul, from his perch on the chair, stared at the yapping creature with curiosity. She wondered if the old dog would try to eat the pup if she grew too chatty.

Ophelia knelt before her bed and pulled out her bag. From it she shoved her shaking legs into thick trousers. She managed to untie the dress and hang it up in the closet before wrapping herself in a long, patchwork skirt and a chemise with brown sleeves that hung past her wrists. Ready to go, she tossed the bag over her shoulder and looked to her dogs.

"Raoul, come."

With the mountain dog at her side, she saw the pup still wagging its tail. Would it be rude to steal a gift from the prince? She recalled his kisses and picked the dog up, placing her inside her bag. The clothes would keep Amalie warm and muffle her noises.

She gave a last backwards glance at her old room, then left, tossing the key out the nearest window.

"How are you not ready? I gave you all day!"

"I apologize, but while you only had to tend to a room, I have a whole house to organize!"

"You make it sound like I had such an easy time! You didn't just have another man's tongue down your throat."

Nicholas stopped shoving trousers into his bag. "What?"

Her cheeks flushed. "You heard me."

He stared at her, his eyes wide and pale, like that first day she met him. "You kissed another man?"

"No, he kissed me. There's a difference. And I didn't ask for it, but when you're playing the part of a bride, you have to lie." She scrunched up her nose. "It isn't as if I had a choice."

Nicholas didn't say anything. She heard his boots as they walked to his closet. She reached into one of his drawers and pulled out a black tunic with silver fleur de les. She began to fold it.

"You could have stayed, you know."

"I know."

"You could have been happy with him."

"I _know_."

"You-"

"Nicholas, would you just be quiet? I'm here. With you. Leave it be."

"Do you want to be, truly?"

She brought his shirt to the bag and, whilst standing beside him, leaned over and pecked his cheek. "Yes," she whispered. "Now can we please stop fighting? I'd rather not start our engagement off with angry words."

Nicholas curled his fingers around hers and squeezed. "As my lady wishes," he replied.

By the time they were done, the house looked as it always had, but there was a sadness that lingered between the floorboards. Ophelia saw Nan on the couch with Amalie curled up beside her. A quilt was over the one while the pup buried against it like it was nesting.

"You're sure you don't mind keeping her until we return?" asked the princess.

Nan looked up from her stitching and shook her head. "Of course not! Such a tiny thing would get lost so easily, it's best to keep her here," she smiled. "Besides, I could use the company, now that you both will be gone."

Nicholas glanced out the window. "We should leave now, while the moon is still at its highest. I don't want to risk another run in with a wolf."

Nan pushed herself off the couch and grasped the princess in a tight embrace. "I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered.

Ophelia buried her head against the girl's curls. "I will miss you too. I promise to write."

"Good, I wouldn't expect anything less!" she giggled.

Once parted, Nicholas handed over the set of keys to his home. "Be sure to keep this place a secret. For your protection, and ours."

"I promise. Ophelia, take care of him, will you? And you Nicholas, don't kill her in the first month," she teased.

Ophelia smiled, blinking away the tears. Raoul trotted over and as she stared at her old friend, she knelt down to his level and wrapped her arms around his thick neck. "If only you were younger, my sweet boy. We could run through the fields together, just like we used to," she whispered. She pulled back and scratched behind his ears. "You have to stay here, okay? Nan will take good care of you." Raoul tilted his head to the right, staring at her. She wiped her eyes. "Please don't think I love you any less," she whispered.

Nan smoothed the dog's fur. "I'll take good care of him, Ophelia, I swear it."

The princess nodded then rose to her feet. Nicholas took her hand in his and waved farewell to the new guardian of the home.

"We'll be seeing you," he promised.

Nan nodded as she watched them leave from the back door. Nicholas' horse was already saddled and ready to go. As Ophelia mounted the gentle animal, she heard Raoul's whimpers.

 _I can't risk you getting eaten by wolves, or worse. It's too dangerous._

It was only when they had left the inner circle around Nicholas' home did she feel the first shudders of home sickness. It bit her heart, causing her to duck her head as Nicholas guided the horse through the brush. She placed a hand over her mouth to conceal her crying, but he felt her trembling against his chest. She expected silence, and that was what she found. His hands remained on the reins, but his head dipped to her shoulder, rubbing against the soft skin exposed between her neck and shoulder blade. It wasn't much, but the small comfort was enough.

Hours later, when they were far beyond the woods and castle, Ophelia suggested a small village nearby.

"I have only been there once when I was seven. No one will recognize me," she explained.

Nicholas agreed, following her directions to the area. He may not have said it, but she suspected he was grateful for the map she smuggled from her father's study.

She guessed it was almost three o'clock when they road into the quiet town. The only light on in the whole village was at the church, so that was where Nicholas directed them. She spotted a stable in the back, and after grabbing her bag from the animal, she let Nicholas settle their steed inside it. Hopefully the priest wouldn't object to a late night interruption.

Nicholas made her promise to wait for him before knocking, so to pass the time she stared up at the stars. As she did so, she was sure she heard Camilla's laughter. Above her, her brothers' eyes watched her, teasing her as they used to when she was younger. She thought she saw her parents forming in the stars, but that was interrupted by the hand on the small of her back. Nicholas kissed her cheek before using the brass knocker to grab the priest's attention.

A lean man of almost sixty stood before them. His spectacles hung off his hooked nose and the large, gold cross glittered in the candlelight. She smiled and bobbed a curtsey.

"Good evening, Father. We're deeply sorry for the interruption, but we have been riding all night and are in great need of a place to rest our heads."

The priest glanced at the princess then Nicholas, who agreed with his companion. Suddenly, the man smiled widely, revealing two missing teeth on the left side of his mouth.

"Come in, come in! What kind of shepherd would I be if I didn't offer shelter for the lambs?" He held the door open, waiting until Ophelia and Nicholas were inside before shutting it behind them. "You're in luck. I was just about to go to bed when I heard your knocking. The Good Book kept me up most of the night. Such interesting words, don't you think?"

Ophelia smiled. "I'm afraid we wouldn't know Father, we can't read Latin." Well, that was a lie on her part, but he didn't need to know that.

"Oh yes, of course, how silly of me! Are you two hungry, by any chance? I always have a snack before bed myself." Without waiting for an answer, he led them through the brick corridors towards the warm kitchen. It was small, much like Nicholas', but the table was pushed against the window. She guessed this was his private eating area.

The priest put on a fresh pot of tea as he rummaged for something to eat. "Now tell me, where do you two hail from?"

"South of Paris," Nicholas answered. "We're doing a bit of travelling."

"Travel, you say? Interesting, very interesting!" he said with his head stuck in a cupboard. When he came out, he had a jar of honey in one hand and dry bread in the other. "I'm afraid this will have to do for now. My cook hasn't gone shopping since yesterday, and a whole host of Scotsman came through in search of a good meal. I couldn't refuse them." He set the food on the table then gathered plates. "Sit, sit! You two must be tired after such a long day's travel."

He sat down soon enough, opposite the pair, and spread a generous amount of honey over the rye bread. The priest asked them all kinds of questions, asking about their families and what they did for work. Finally, the man took a deep breath. "I must say, you two do make a fine couple. But I do notice there is not ring on her finger. Am I to presume you two are unwed?"

Ophelia nodded. "Yes, Father. Our parents are less than approving of such a union."

"So you've run off together, is that it?"

She blushed. "I know it is wrong in the eyes of God to disobey our parents, but," she felt Nicholas' hand under the table squeeze hers, "sometimes we cannot help these things."

The priest nodded as his pale green eyes flickered from her face to his. "I cannot force you to return home, young ones, but if you are going to travel together, might I suggest it be in a more . . . appropriate manner?"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting?"

The man smiled. "A parent cannot overrule a marriage performed before God."

Ophelia's eyes widened. "You wish to marry us?"

"It is the only logical answer, safe of escorting you home," he chuckled. "Although I'm sure your parents would tolerate that much more."

She looked to Nicholas. Could this be a trap?

"Why would you do something like that for us?" asked Nicholas. "We are strangers."

The priest shook his head. "No one is a stranger before God, my son. Do you wish to wait until morning, or should we perform it now?"

Again, the couple looked to each other for the answer. The longer they waited, the greater their chances of being caught before they could wed.

Ophelia stared back at the priest. "Tonight, if it pleases you."

The priest grinned. "It would please me very much. I was in love once too, when I was young. If God hadn't called me to the priesthood . . ." he trailed off. He pushed back his chair and finished the last of his bread. "Come along, come! This is going to be a very important event!"

The princess followed his lead and the pair trailed off behind him.

Ophelia stared at the stone ceiling, listening to the drops of water drop into the tin can near the bed. The thin wool sheets itched fiercely, forcing her to shove one leg out. Beside her, Nicholas slept. From the corner of her eye she could see his shoulders rise and fall.

 _Married_ , she thought. _I did it_.

She placed one of her hands over her belly and sighed. Was this how Henri felt that day he wed his true love? She shut her eyes halfway, picturing the elder man make a fool of himself around his wife. She smiled as she imagined Henri spinning Magdalene around. Perhaps he danced with her in a field. Or had they spent the day hiding under covers, planning their future in whispers?

She missed him. She wished she had said goodbye.

The breeze from the open window caused her to shudder. The priest had been kind enough to offer them a room in the top of the church. The marriage document, signed with their signatures still damp, was rolled up in her bag. She made sure to take it from the priest in case he suddenly decided not to give it to them. She wasn't willing to take any risks yet. On their way up earlier, despite the excitement, the couple agreed they would not stay for breakfast.

 _He's a nice fellow, but I don't trust him._

Nicholas sighed in his sleep. Ophelia turned her head and smiled at him. All and all, this was a successful first night in her books. She lazily rolled onto her side and wrapped her arm around her husband's bare chest. His arm rested against hers as his hand covered hers. His back was warm as she pressed her cheek against it and she shut her eyes, soon drifting off to sleep in the confines of her husband's embrace.


	30. Chapter 29

Damien couldn't stop laughing.

Cogsworth, still in his purple pyjamas, glared at the prince. "Sire, this is not funny. Your father is most upset and needs you to come to his private quarters immediately. Now please, get dressed and follow me."

The prince, his chortles still echoing in his room, did as he was told and tossed on a robe. Melissa trailed behind as Cogsworth led the charge with a speedy waddle. By the time they reached the chamber, Damien could hear his mother's cries from inside. The laughter stopped.

Inside, Belle sat on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands. Emmanuel kept a steady pace across the length of the chamber. Both were still in their bed clothes. Camilla, in an ivory nightgown, curled up on a chair with a mug on her lap. Her hair was drawn back in braids, and while she wasn't crying, he could see the redness of her eyes from here. Henri, it appeared, had been up for some time. His cheeks were rosy and a few grass stains on his knees. Unlike the others, he didn't seem upset at all.

"So it's true, then? She's gone?"

Camilla nodded. "Raoul and Amalie are gone too. Her room—it was locked. Papa had to break down the door."

"Does Prince Burk know?"

"Yes," Henri said, "he was there when Father found Ophelia missing."

Emmanuel slammed his open palm against the stone wall. "And now everything is ruined! We have lost Germany," he growled.

Damien glanced at his mother who sobbed in response. "How can you talk of Germany when our daughter is gone? Don't you care?"

Their father blushed, hiding from his wife's torment. Damien went off to stand beside Henri.

"When did they figure out?"

Henri shrugged. "Don't know, I was out. Took my birds for an early morning hunt."

Damien stared at his brother. "You didn't go to sleep, did you?"

"And dream of my wife? I didn't drink enough to forget her face. Couldn't find the good wine."

"Rose would have wanted to share."

"Speaking of her, how do you know her?"

Belle's shoulder shook as she cried. Damien winced at her pain. "It's a long story. I'm going to get food for us, anything special you want?"

Henri raised an eyebrow. "You're thinking of food at a time like this?"

"Well, Mother is going to need something once she's done, lest she wants to get sick."

"Somehow I have a feeling she isn't going to care about getting sick with her daughter missing."

"True, but someone has to think ahead. Now, what do you want?"

"Cider. If there's any leftover apple pie, have that sent up as well."

Damien nodded then glanced at his remaining sister. "What will you have?"

Camilla drew her legs up closer to her chest as the tea steam rose up around her nose. She glanced at her brother, but her eyes were blank pools. "A cinnamon bun. Large one," she said quietly. "We had them last night, didn't we?"

The prince nodded. "We did, Sister."

Camilla bobbed her head then looked back to their parents. Emmanuel had stopped pacing, finally, and Damien saw his arms wrapped around his wife, holding her as her body shook. He would have to guess as to what they wanted, if anything.

Once the shut the door behind him, he exhaled. 'Thanks be to God I'm out of that one.'

Truth be told, he was glad Ophelia was gone. He respected his father's anger and their mother's grief, and while Burk was nice, Ophelia would never have settled so easily.

 _They really should have expected this._

On the way to the kitchen, Damien passed through a deserted common room. Sitting on one of the stiff chairs was Prince Burk. He was nursing a flagon of ale.

"Your Grace, I didn't expect to see you up this early. What troubles you?"

Burk glared at him. His eyes weren't clouded yet, so it must have been his first flagon. "You know very well what troubles me. My bride has run off!"

Damien nodded. "I am aware of that Sir, and for that I am truly sorry. My family had no knowledge of her plans, else we would not have brought you this far."

"I should hope so." He ran a hand over his face. "My bride, why did you leave me?" he whispered.

The French prince tilted his head. He hadn't expected such obvious grief. "Sir, if I might say, my sister is many things, but she isn't a liar. I truly believe she cared for you, at least in her own way."

Burk nodded. "But she did not want to marry me, yes?"

"Yes. I do hope, however, that you will stay, just for a while. Having your company has been most enjoyable. We would hate to lose that."

"I don't know, Your Grace."

Damien went over and sat across from the prince. "I was thinking of holding an archery tournament later this week. A hunt was being scheduled for tomorrow, and I know my little sister has been focusing on her dancing for another ball."

Burk raised his head. "Archery?"

The elder of the two gave a nod. "It is one of the only things I can still do after my accident."

"What happened to your eye?"

"It is a long story, my friend. A wound from war. I hope you will never have to deal with such things."

Burk nodded. "I shall write to my family and inform them I will be staying as planned."

"Oh, I don't think that is necessary, Sir. We will inform our envoys of the change. Think of yourself as on a break from princely duties. All you have to do is rest and enjoy your time here," he smiled.

"Do you think I could, after what happened?"

"I think you owe it to yourself to. After all, why waste a perfectly good vacation?"

Burk smirked. "When you put it like that, I suppose you are right." He stood. "I think I shall rest for the morning. What is going on this afternoon?"

"I've just gotten up myself, but I'm sure if you ask Lumiere or Cogsworth, they will know."

Burk nodded then thanked him. "I had not expected such kindness after this."

"You needn't worry, not all of us are like my sister," he chuckled.

Once Burk was gone, Damien smirked. 'I think I just saved the kingdom.' He left the room, intent on letting the cooks know of the meal relocation.

Sophia blinked at the prince. "She's gone?"

"Yes, she didn't tell you?"

"I—I haven't seen her since . . ." she trailed off, placing a hand over her mouth. She glanced at her husband. "Did you know?"

Chris shook his head. "No dear, she would have told you before me," he reminded.

Colene handed Damien a cup of tea. "You say she was engaged to a German prince?"

Damien nodded. Jamie, who sat beside him, hadn't said a word since the prince came to Colene's home. He had hoped they had some information on his sister, something he could bring back to comfort his parents, but so far his hopes were, well, hopeless.

"Why didn't she tell us?" asked Sophia.

Chris placed a hand on his wife's shoulder. "I'm sure she had her reasons. She must have been desperate."

"What is this prince like?" Colene asked. "Is he cruel? Wicked?"

"On the contrary, he's a decent fellow. He only arrived yesterday though, so he could be as wicked as you think, but I sincerely doubt that." He took a sip of the drink. "I apologize for bringing such sad news this early, but I thought if anyone had information, it may be you."

"She didn't even have the decency to tell us," Jamie whispered. "How could she?"

"Now Jamie," said Sophia, "before you overreact-"

"Our best friend is gone and you call this overreacting?"

Damien, seeing tensions rising, finished his drink then handed it back to the young lady. "Thank you for your hospitality this morning, Colene, but I'm afraid I must return home. I've stayed away too long."

Colene nodded. "If you have any news, please let us know. We'll do the same, if anything turns up," she promised.

Damien smiled. "Thank you, my family appreciates it. I hope we're still invited to the wedding?"

"Of course!" Colene blushed. "Perhaps Ophelia will be back by then and we can forget all this nonsense."

The prince doubted that very much, but he just smiled then slipped out the front door where he soon collided with Nan.

"Sire!" she squeaked. "I didn't expect to see you here this morning."

"Well, I thought about your cousins and Ophelia and," he paused. "Are you alright my dear?" Her eyes were just as red as his mother's had been when he left, and her clothing was filled with creases.

The woman bobbed her head. "Yes Majesty, I'm fine. I heard the news of Ophelia, I'm so sorry."

Damien just nodded. Something didn't feel right. He glanced at her skirts and saw dog hair, very familiar dog hair. He looped his arm through hers. "Let me buy you breakfast. It must have been an awful morning for you."

Nan stared up at him. "Y-Yes, most shocking."

"Of course. Seeing her off last night must have been so hard."

"It was Sire, it really was." She gasped. "I-I mean-"

He shook his head. "You aren't in any trouble, Nan. I just need to know if she's safe."

Nan glanced at the ground beneath their feet. "She is, Sire. At least I hope she is. She left last night, leaving me with Raoul and Amalie. That's all I can tell you. I'm sworn to secrecy."

"Even against your cousins?"

"Especially them. Neither have been good at keeping secrets."

"I suppose that explains why Ophelia never mentioned her leave-taking. But she is safe?"

Nan nodded. "Yes, Sire. Nicholas will watch over her."

Damien didn't even bother trying to ask who this Nicholas person was. He already had a good idea. "Do you have somewhere safe to stay, in the meantime?"

"Oh yes, Ophelia made arrangements before she left. I'm well taken care of," she said. They arrived at the baker's stall. Damien pulled out a small pouch of coins and handed it to the wide gentleman.

"Two loaves, a dozen rolls, a few strawberry tarts, and," he glanced at Nan, "anything else?"

The girl's eyes widened. "I—Sire that's more than enough. I won't be able to finish half of that by myself!"

Damien looked back at the baker. "Add a few apple fritters, please." As the man set to work on filling the order, the prince loosened his grip on her arm. "I'm sure your cousins are just as hungry," he smiled.

Nan nodded. "Thank you, Damien. You didn't have to do that."

"I understand the confusion and pain you and the others are going through. I find a good meal helps." He squeezed her arm then left her with the bag of food.

Although his place was at the castle mitigating the damage, the prince's feet guided him to the fountain. When he came upon it, he was sure he saw his sister dancing atop the slippery stones. As he came closer, his heart sank.

 _Fool, why would she be dancing so close to where she can be caught?_

However, someone was sitting there. A boy no older than six sat on the ledge with a book on his lap. His skin was pale and his fingers looked as brittle as cinnamon sticks, but his mop of dark brown hair made up for his uncommon features. The prince wondered what he was reading.

The boy frowned. "That's not how it's supposed to go!"

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong, Boy?"

His eyes were bright blue, almost like Damien's. He pointed to the page. "It's all wrong! The dragon isn't supposed to win."

Damien came closer and sat beside the boy, leaving enough room between them to rest his hand against the cool stone. "Why not?"

The boy looked at him as if the prince was a jester from court. "Dragons are bad! The good guys always win. The prince wins the princess and saves the kingdom. That's what's supposed to happen!"

Damien smiled. "Dragon's aren't always bad. They can be dangerous, and scary, but it's sometimes those that scare us can be out greatest allies, given the right circumstances."

"You've seen dragons before?" he asked, his eyes wide.

The prince chuckled. "There are dragons all around us, Boy. Sometimes they just wear convincing costumes."

The boy looked around the crowd. "Is she a dragon?" he asked while pointing to an older woman buying apples.

Damien chuckled. "Well, she could be, but you'd have to get to know her before you could tell."

The boy nodded. "Do princes and princesses hide too? And goblins and mermaids?"

"Certainly! Dragons aren't the only one who can change skins."

"You're smart. Mama never tells me this when I ask her."

Damien smiled. "Why thank you. It helps when you ask the right questions."

"Joseph!"

The boy turned his head to the woman's voice. Damien saw Rose marching towards him with a full basket over her arm and a jacket in her other hand. She came right up to the boy and knelt in front of him.

"I told you to stay in the book store," she chastised.

Joseph blushed. "I'm sorry, Mama, but it's too dusty in there!"

She sighed. "Next time, don't forget your jacket. You don't want to get sick again!" She almost had the jacket on before she realized Damien was there.

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon!" she laughed.

"I certainly didn't either, but I must say I'm not disappointed."

Joseph tugged on his mother's pink skirt. "Mama, who is he?"

Rose smiled. "Joseph, this is my friend Prince Damien. Damien, this is my son, who you seem to already know."

The little boy stared up at the prince and tilted his head to the left. "You are really good at hiding."

As Rose tried to figure out what her son meant, Damien laughed. "Thank you, Joseph. I've been practicing."

Rose shook her head. "Come along Joseph, we should get home to help Grandpa with the horses."

"Can the prince come? I bet he's good with horses."

His mother chuckled. "I'm sure he is but Damien might be busy today."

"Can he come for dinner then? Please?" Joseph whined.

Rose glanced at Damien. "It appears someone has taken a liking to you," she mused. "So, Prince Damien, will you join us for a humble evening of bread, ham, and cheese?"

Damien bowed. "It would be my honour."

"Wow," Joseph whispered. "He even bows like a prince!"

Rose chuckled. "Go return your book Joseph, then we'll head home." The boy did as he was told, leaving the adults to stare at each other.

Damien's neck became hot and he cleared his throat. "He looks just like Hamlin."

She nodded. "Sometimes it feels like he's watching over me through Joseph's eyes."

He wasn't sure what to do now. An urge to go with Rose right then was becoming stronger. 'No, head home, see if the family is still in one piece.' He swallowed a lump in his throat then bowed again.

"I'd best be heading home. I will see you tonight, and I'll bring the good wine."

She laughed. "Wonderful! Good to hear your brother did not finish it all."

He took her hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it before leaving the town square. He hoped no one saw how bright his cheeks felt.

"How long have they been at it?" Damien asked as he leaned against his parents' bedroom wall.

Henri shrugged. "I left after breakfast for a nap. Cogsworth woke me up with the promise of food. So far, it's just been them chewing over our situation."

Their parents stood by the fire trying to figure out what to do now.

"At least Anne is still coming. Perhaps we can push back the Spanish Prince?"

Belle shook her head. "We should be taking a lesson from this, Emmanuel. Ophelia is gone-"

"I know, that's why we need to figure out what to do with Burk."

"He'll be staying," said Damien. "I convinced him to stay for at least a week, so we have some time."

The king sighed. "Good, thank you. At least one of us is thinking clearly."

Belle rolled her eyes.

"The Spanish prince has a sister. How old is she?" Emmanuel asked his wife.

"She's thirteen."

The king looked to Damien. "If we can convince Burk to marry Camilla-"

Damien saw where this was going. His eyes narrowed. "No."

"Son, you must understand. She's young, but, in time-"

"She will still be young, and she certainly won't want to marry me."

The king opened his mouth but Belle put her hand on his arm. "Enough, Emmanuel. Please. No more. One son hates us and one daughter is gone. I will not lose another child."

The pair stared at each other while their sons watched. Finally, the king sighed.

"We won't arrange anything." He looked at Henri. "Anne will be here soon. I expect we won't have any of this happening again."

Henri lowered his gaze to his socked feet. "No, Father," he muttered.

Emmanuel nodded. "Good. Now, where is Camilla?"

The boys left their parents' chamber. Henri smirked. "You're free."

Damien stared at his brother. He tried to reach out but Henri went further down the hall then disappeared.

With no idea how to pass the time, the prince wandered about until he heard Camilla's laughter. He followed the noise until he came to the deserted room from earlier. Burk sat with a small table in front of him. Camilla sat across from him with another cup of tea in one hand and cards in the other.

Burk stared at the girl, a smile covering his freckled face. Besides the cards, Burk had half a cinnamon bun in his sticky hand. Damien leaned against the door, watching the two.

 _Perhaps Father won't have to worry so much about Germany._


	31. Epilogue

"Do you think it's safe?"

"It's been ten years, Ophelia. It's time," said Nicholas.

The runaway princess looked around the familiar forest. "It hasn't changed at all," she said quietly.

Her husband agreed from his separate steed. His hair was cut short and his beard neatly trimmed. He let her take a blade to that scraggly beard (finally) and in turn he stayed up most of the night helping her pack. She thought of their old home, such a nice place in the heart of Aisne with a room for all their children and tall, willowy trees perfect for hiding under. She sighed. She would miss it so much.

"I don't know if I'm ready, Nicholas. I don't think they are."

Nicholas glanced at their daughters who rode ahead. At nine years old, the twins had their father's hair and eyes, but Celine loved books almost as much as Ophelia, and Urilla was too stubborn to be anyone else's daughter. Their six year old son lagged behind on his pony.

"I know you're scared, but it's time we brought them home. I want to share it with them. They're old enough to understand." He reached across and kissed her cheek. "We'll be fine, love. We sent word to Nan. She knows we're coming."

"That's another thing, where will she stay? We should have thought this out better," she muttered.

"We'll think of something. We always do. How are you feeling?"

She glanced at her round stomach. One month left. She covered the bulge with her blue cloak. "Fine, dear. I'm fine. So is your daughter."

Nicholas smirked. "You still think it's a she?"

"Haven't I been right these past few times?"

"You never predicted twins."

"Ah, but I said a girl, didn't I?"

He chuckled. "Fine, fine." He looked behind him at their fair haired son. Gilles looked so much like her brothers, Ophelia could scarcely believe the lad was hers.

A half hour more and they arrived at the manor. Urilla's gold eyes widened. "You used to live here?"

Celine walked her horse around the front walls. "Why did you leave?"

Their mother chuckled. "That's a long story, ma petite. One we will tell you tonight, after dinner." The plan was to spend the first night at home, then head to the palace for the inevitable reunion that, even thinking about, Ophelia started to panic.

Gilles was the first to dismount. He ran to his papa and took his hand. The boy's eyes scanned the area, looking over the new territory. Nicholas squeezed his hand tightly.

Her daughters peered in one of the windows. Ophelia smirked. "You can open the door, you know. It is our home."

Celine's braid wiped her back as she dashed to grab it first. Urilla was right behind her. Together, they flung open the door and hurried inside to explore. A few seconds later, Urilla stuck her head outside. "Mama, a man is in the kitchen. He says he's our uncle."

Ophelia's eyes widened. 'Henri? Damien?' She picked up her violet skirts and ran as fast as she could. By the time she reached the kitchen, Nicholas' arm was around her back, supporting her. Gasping, her gaze landed on the seated individual.

Damien smiled. "Hello Sister, it's been a long time."

He was sure Nan was lying. After so many years, he was sure she would stay hidden. Leaving Rose and the children was a difficult decision, especially since he couldn't tell anyone from the castle, but after Nan showed him the letter, well he didn't have much of a choice.

Now, after seeing his nieces and nephew, after seeing his sister, no longer a little girl, he almost cried.

Ophelia had tears streaming down her face. "Nan told you?"

He nodded. "You look . . ." he shook his head. "I've missed you."

She smiled, wiping her eyes. "I've missed you too," she chuckled. Ophelia went over to him and he rose, hugging her gently.

"Am I to expect another niece, or nephew?" he teased.

She pulled back, laughing. "Well, Nicholas insists a boy, but I haven't been wrong yet. How are you? How is . . . everyone? You must tell me."

"I will, after you introduce me to everyone," he smiled.

The princess blushed. "Children, come meet your uncle." Ophelia's daughters came to her side in their brown cloaks and pale dresses. "Urilla, Celine, this is your uncle Damien." Both curtseyed. Gilles went over only when his father decided to come along.

Damien stared at his sister's husband. "The legendary Nicholas, I have heard about you. Pleasure to finally meet my sister's husband."

Nicholas bowed. "I hope you've heard only good things, Your Grace."

The prince chuckled. "We're brothers, Nicholas. Let's not bother with Graces here." He glanced at the children. "I brought gifts. I left them in the living room. Why don't you go get them?"

The girls raced each other with Gilles dragged along by Celine.

Alone now, the adults sat at the table with his sister's sore feet on her husband's lap. "Now tell me Brother, how are you?"

"Quite well, actually. You missed my wedding six years ago."

She chuckled. "You'll receive a nuptial gift, I promise. Who is she?"

"A farm girl, I met her at a ball. It's a long story, but Rose and I are happy. We live together in the country with her father and son. Joseph was from her first marriage."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "Really? When will I meet her, and him?"

"Soon, perhaps tomorrow if you feel up to the travel. We actually live quite close by, now that I think on it. I would have brought Rose today, but our daughter Marian is sick with a cold and Jean was having his nap."

"It sounds like you are happy. What of the others? How is Henri? I've thought of him a great deal since I left. Is he angry?"

Damien sighed and glanced out the window. "Henri is . . . I try to speak to him, but he is all business these days. Father lets him take care of almost all kingly business, which keeps him quite busy."

"We heard of the wedding," Nicholas said. "It must have been difficult for him, from what Ophelia tells me at least."

Damien agreed. "The marriage was not for love, but they get along well enough. I don't know if he cares for her. I don't know if he'll ever forget Magdalene. I pray he does."

"Anne is with child, yes? I remember picking it up from one of the farmer's wives along the way," asked Ophelia.

"Yes, everyone prays she will carry it to full term, but," he shrugged, "my concern is Henri. I know his thoughts turn to Magdalene when Anne is in her lying in stages. You should be too, dear sister. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you," he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh don't be silly, Brother! I've run a book store when I was ready to burst. Keeping up with my family isn't that hard."

"You should come to the castle, then. If you can. They would love to see you, especially Mother. She has missed you a great deal."

"We were thinking tomorrow," said Nicholas. "I still don't trust the woods at night."

"I have a carriage we could use, if that helps."

Ophelia raised an eyebrow. "From the farm?"

He shrugged. "There a lot of things hiding in that barn."

"Children, would you like to go to the castle?"

"Yes!" they cried in unison.

"I guess you have your answer."

Henri rubbed his eyes. How many hours had he been staring at these pages? The parchment blurred together into a horrid stack of petitions he didn't want to deal with. Then again, it was better than visiting Anne.

The fire burned his back, heating him through the thick, red chair. He crossed one leg over the other and sighed, leaning back against his chair. He tilted his head down and picked up the letter he had been reading before.

 _My brothers found your last letter. They know. They promise they will not tell Papa, but I do not know how long I can hold them to their word._

 _Our sons miss you. Please my love, come visit soon. The castle can do without you for a few days._

Henri rested his head against his hand. Magdalene didn't understand. He couldn't leave Anne, lest the court view him in a dimmer light. He closed his eyes and pictured his mistress at home with the children. His sons, strong boys who looked like their father, played in the fields and tugged on their mother's skirt. He missed them, especially his eldest. Rene needed a father to show him how to become a good man.

 _I would be there if I could, my son. I'll find a way to make this work._

There came a knock at the door. Thinking it was his daughter, he hid the paper in his drawer. "Evette, Papa is busy right now. I'll come play with you later, I promise."

The door opened and when he turned, he thought he was seeing a ghost. "Ophelia?"

She grinned. "Hello Brother."

He shot up from his seat and picked her up off the ground, spinning her as he hugged her. She laughed, holding onto his neck. "Be careful! Your future niece doesn't like dizziness!"

Henri placed her where he sat earlier, kneeling down before her with her hands in his. "Why did you come back? You were free," he whispered.

She shook her head. "I wasn't, Henri. I had to come home, to you and the others. I want to be part of the family again, along with my children."

"Children? How many?"

"You have twin nieces and a nephew, a nephew who looks too much like you and Damien."

Henri's eyes watered. "I'm so happy for you." He placed his head on her lap and squeezed his eyes shut. "I have missed you so much. I need-"

"I know," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry too. I know how hard it is for you." She smiled. "I met your daughter. She's so pretty Henri, just like you."

"So do my sons," he whispered. He hadn't meant to let that slip, but he didn't care. No one knew, not even Damien.

His sister sighed. "How many?"

"Three. Magdalene . . . I didn't mean for it to happen at first, but after Anne lost three babies, I met Magdalene again and we just . . . it all happened so quickly. And now I have three sons who need a father but-"

Ophelia hushed him. "I know, Henri, I know. We'll think of something. Does Mother know?"

"No one does. I can't tell them," he whispered as a tear ran down his cheek.

She sighed. "Don't cry, Brother. This is a happy day. You get to meet your nieces and nephews, and I heard Camilla and her husband just arrived." She paused. "Perhaps, while I look for her, you should visit Anne. I heard she was having a rough time today. Cogsworth said so, at least."

Henri raised his head and wiped his eyes. "You're right." Despite everything, she was his wife. "I need—I should be there for her," he nodded. The prince stood and helped his sister to her feet. "Would you like an escort?"

Ophelia shook her head. "I'll be just fine. I have an idea on where our sister is hiding. I've asked Cogsworth to arrange a late night snack for us. Will you be there?"

"Of course. I'll see you soon."

Once the door shut, Henri took the letter from his desk and put it in the fire. Perhaps Anne would be awake still.

Burk leaned back against his chair with Camilla curled up on his lap. "You know, this is my favourite chair in the whole castle. I can always take a nice nap here."

Camilla laughed, brushing back his hair. "And here I thought it was because it was where we first played cards."

"That too," he said, leaning up to kiss her cheek. "Did you hear? Ophelia has returned."

The Queen of Germany's eyes widened. "Truly? Who told you?"

"Cogsworth. He says in an hour we need to be in the dining hall for a snack. She brought her children. Speaking of children, where are ours?"

Tristin, five years old, was playing with his blocks near the fire. On a blanket their toddler Giselle was napping. Camilla rested her head against his shoulder. "I don't believe it. She can't be back."

"Believe it, Sister," Ophelia said with a smile. "I have returned."

Camilla raised her head, her eyes wide. "Where have you been?"

Ophelia waddled over and pulled up the chair. Camilla sat up straight with Burk's hand on her waist. "I've been running a bookstore, raising a family, living. Missing you, all of you." She looked at Burk. "Feeling guilty for what I did to you, especially. I am sorry, Burk."

He nodded "In the end, I can only thank you. Camilla and I wouldn't have had the chance to get to know each other." He glanced at his daughter. "I would not have my children."

Ophelia smiled. "They are lovely. May I hold her?"

Camilla nodded as her chest tightened. "Why didn't you write?"

The elder propped the baby up against her chest, rocking her gently. "I didn't want to risk being found. I only kept in contact with Nan to make sure Nicholas' house was in good shape, or if she needed anything."

Camilla bit her lip. "Did she tell you of my son?"

Ophelia nodded. "I wanted to write to you, both of you, but I didn't have anything to say. There are no words to describe what you both went through six years ago. I'm so sorry, Camilla."

The younger lowered her gaze. "Thank you. I'm sorry too, about Raoul. He was such a good dog."

"Yes, but at least he was safe for those last few years. I would have hated if any harm came to him." Ophelia sighed. "Did Cogsworth get around to telling you about the plan?"

Burk nodded. "I just told Camilla. We could head over now, if you like. I'm sure your parents are already there."

The runaway agreed, but Camilla noticed her sister's tense shoulders. The queen went over and kissed her sister's forehead. "Come, Sister. Everything will be just fine." She took her sister's hand and helped her stand.

Belle shifted from foot to foot. "What's taking her so long? Do you suppose she fell?"

Nicholas shook his head from beside his mother-in-law. "I've seen her climb ladders to get to the top books on the shelf. She doesn't fall."

The queen looked at the man. "You've been watching her, haven't you? Helping?"

"Yes Your Majesty, I've been protective to the point where it's driven her mad." He smirked. "My daughters are the same when I'm working in the mines."

Emmanuel chuckled. "They certainly are a lot like her," he said as he looked at his grandchildren. Henri's daughter was also there being kept entertaining by Damien. "I'm glad you convinced her to come home. I've—I've missed her more than I can say."

Nicholas stared at the king and nodded. "I am sorry to have caused you both so much pain. It was never our intention."

"I know," said the king. The door opened and in came both his daughters. Belle gasped, covering her mouth.

"My daughter," she whispered before rushing over. Ophelia smiled as she and her mother embraced. Emmanuel saw her glance at Nicholas from across the room, causing the elder to grin.

"There you are, Mama!" said Celine. "Cousin Evette said you were looking for Uncle Henri."

"Don't worry ma petite, I found him. And your Aunt Camilla and Uncle Burk." She kissed her mother's cheeks then stood before her father. "Hello Papa."

The king swallowed the lump in his throat. Without saying a word, he wrapped the girl up in his arms, holding her tightly. He didn't care that her large stomach made it hard. She was back, she was home, she was _safe_. If she noticed the tears dripping on her, she didn't comment.

After a few minutes, they parted but Emmanuel kept a hold of her hand. He led her to her seat and helped her sit down then took his place beside his wife, close by to his daughter. Every few seconds he kept glancing at her, making sure she was still there.

Henri entered a few minutes later and sat down beside Damien.

"Anne sends her greetings, and apologizes for not coming. I told her I would bring something back, if there's anything left."

"I don't know if you should have told her that. After such travels, I think we're all quite hungry," Ophelia chuckled.

As the food was brought out, Belle gripped her husband's hand tightly. "I didn't think this would ever happen," she whispered.

He kissed her cheek. "Let's just hope this isn't a dream."

Belle smiled. "A dream come true."

Emmanuel stared at his family around him. _Indeed it is._


End file.
